Stung
by Shadowtheory
Summary: A crashed shuttle, an alien planet. Missing crewmen. She's in a foul mood and he's fed up with it. Tempers flare. But before they can resolve the tension between them... Set just after Scorpion. JC.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: The characters in this story are not mine. They belong to Paramount.

**Rating**: T for the language.

**Notes**: This is set just after "Scorpion". I'd call it much lighter than my usual, but light isn't exactly the word I'd use to describe itMoved the episode "Unity" up to just a few weeks before "Scorpion" to suit my twisted purposes…hope no one objects. If you do, feel free not to mention it. Borrowed Justin Tighe from Jeri Taylor's Mosaic; hope she doesn't mind, and no infringement is intended.

* * *

He loved her. He truly and absolutely, deep down in his bones, from the bottom of his heart, _loved _her.

It was just a shame that he was going to have to kill her.

"Chakotay!"

He winced, hearing her distinctive voice calling out to him from across the hustle and bustle of the crowded Oran street. Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, he caught himself absently pinching the bridge of his nose: an attempt to address the throbbing ache which had set in behind his eyes. Ironically, it was a gesture he'd likely picked up from her.

_Ironic indeed_, he allowed, as she was, without question, the sole cause of his headache now. Turning toward the sound of her voice, his facial features automatically cleared of the grimace which had settled upon them the instant he saw the condition she was in. Adopting a carefully neutral expression instead, he openly observed her as she made her way toward him, shoving her way through the boisterous gathering of tall, willowy humanoids.

She was somewhat of a mess, he noted, with her auburn hair rather disheveled from the light yet persistent winds of the planet's cool northern hemisphere. She looked paler than usual, too, against the backdrop of the double blue moonlight of Oran IV. Dressed in the casual black pants suit she'd selected for their mission, she'd lost the calm aura of dignity that normally cloaked her slight form. And without the heels of her just-this-side-of-regulation boots, the unusually tall Orans practically dwarfed her as she, somehow, pummeled her way through them.

She was running, he noted with alarm, frowning as the realization dawned upon him. Well, running wasn't exactly the term he'd use, so much as hobbling her way through the thick throng of unamused creatures in her path…but she was moving with general haste and reckless disregard for the casualties she was leaving in her wake.

"Hey!" an amber-hued Oran yelled out, hopping up and down and clutching his left foot in one right hand as she passed.

"Watch where you're going!" another screeched, rubbing his side as she finally cleared the unforgiving mass and broke free from the crowd.

She hurtled toward him as fast as the pronounced limp hindering her movements would allow.

_Oh, yes_, he decided darkly, leveling his commanding officer with a glare as she approached him, making them **both** the center of attention, _I'm going to strangle her_… _after I, once again, get down on my knees and thank the Spirits that she's still alive._

And then he saw them, emerging from the narrowing zigzag of an opening her insistent body had created in the dense crowd: a group of aliens clearly following the same path the captain had taken barely an instant before. And this bunch looked mean, he decided, eyeing the dark, concealing cloaks hooding their shadowed features as they stormed toward him. Their yellow cats' eyes glinted viciously in the double moonlight, and Chakotay noted that the crowd was parting much more easily for the five men than they had for Kathryn…which meant they were gaining on her.

He cursed the fact that they had been unable to salvage any of the phasers from the shuttle wreckage when they'd "landed"…or more accurately, when they'd been set upon by an unknown ship intent upon tractoring them into the alien vessel's gaping cargo hold…

She reached him at last, and he barely registered her breathless order of "Run!" before he'd curled his fingers firmly around the muscles in her upper arm and set off down the dark alleyway to his left, practically dragging her along behind him as he forced her to keep a quick pace.

She didn't complain, for once, and it was surely the first time in weeks that he'd met with _that_ particular phenomenon in her presence.

"I won't even bother asking why you aren't still waiting at the shuttle, which is where I left you," he managed through teeth gritted with both adrenaline and exertion. The commander swiftly darted from the alleyway and onto another less crowded, empty street. "Which is where I seem to recall you promising to _stay_ until I got back."

"Captain's…prerogative," she retorted somewhat breathlessly from just behind him. She was breathing heavily by now, and he gathered that she'd been dodging their pursuers for some few minutes already. She was also having trouble walking, but while he had set a brisk pace, she seemed to be keeping up, even with the evident limp hindering her generally measured strides.

He was nowhere close to a being in frame of mind where he could cut her a centimeter of slack. Not after the hell she'd put him through these past few weeks…

"It's the captain's prerogative to lie, you mean?" he snapped, but the effect was somewhat marred as he ducked into a narrower alleyway, tugging her along behind him.

"No," she growled, and somehow had her voice infused with that famous edge of authority even through her breathlessness. Or maybe that was just the Category Nine death glare he could feel scorching through the tunic on his back. "It's the captain's prerogative…to damned well decide…for herself…whether or not she'll delegate…dangerous tasks to–" She gasped as the singe of weapons' fire struck the wall in front of them, missing her shoulder by no more than a hair. Cursing, Chakotay cut a hard right into the next alley, hauling her behind him and never relaxing his fierce grip on her arm.

Seeing no alternative now, he backed them into a dark corner behind some bins of refuse, praying that their pursuers didn't have scanning equipment as well as contraband weapons; those energy blasts had been set for a more than lethal output, if the tiny showers of blasted material from the wall had meant anything at all…

Breathing heavily, he pulled his captain down into a crouching position just beside him and waited, while they both did their utmost to muffle the telltale sounds coming from their panting mouths.

Chakotay's senses were on hyper-alert, adrenaline pumping through him. The thrill of being pursued and the clear-cut danger surrounding them had the old, habitual frame of mind descending upon him once more. Even after years of serving as Kathryn Janeway's executive officer aboard a Starfleet ship, he still marveled at how quickly he could descend back into mercenary mode. It seemed something that, once learned, could never be forgotten. The tangible, tangy aroma of fear, radiating strongly from both of them, only served to heighten the effect.

A furious bustle of movement stirred an unnatural current of cool air to pass, caressing over the exposed skin of the two humans as the dark band of thugs hurtled past their impromptu hiding spot in the alley.

"They can't have gone far! This way!" one of them urged, directing his deep voice at his companions.

"She'd better not have disappeared, Enahr," another hard male voice, obviously redolent with confident authority growled. "She's seen enough to bring the whole operation down. I told you it was a mistake to take an unknown..."

The words trailed off as the voices continued to move away from them, disappearing into the night.

In precisely which direction the first man had led his cohorts, Chakotay would never know, as it was impossible to see around the thick waste bins concealing the Starfleet officers from view.

His heart slowed, but only by a small fraction. His breathing had come back under control, but he noticed that hers was still somewhat ragged. Finally, after enough time had passed for him to feel relatively assured that the men had not left a scout behind to wait them out, he turned to arch a less-than-amused brow at her. "Friends of yours?"

"You could say that," she whispered, ever aware that the danger had not passed yet; there was always the chance that their pursuers would double back as soon as they realized they were following a cold trail. "But I think I found out what happened to Harry and–"

Kathryn had craned her head around to meet her first officer's dark eyes, which were barely millimeters from hers. She froze as she realized consciously for the first time that Chakotay still had one arm curled protectively around her and that he was firmly hugging her to his side, as though afraid that she would…

She was glad of the dim lighting of the darkened alley, which would ensure that he would not see her blushing – then she mentally kicked herself. It didn't _matter_ what the lighting revealed, because there was nothing to reveal; Starfleet captains didn't blush, and she certainly wasn't doing so now!

Still, perhaps it was a blessing after all that she wouldn't have to _prove_ that at the moment…

_Besides_, she thought darkly, with more than a twinge of decidedly un-captain-like bitterness, _it's not as though he actually wants _you_ that way, Kathryn. He prefers blonds…_Borg_ blonds, who assimilate him into rogue collectives and then manipulate him, use him to achieve their own selfish ends…_

She grimaced to herself, genuinely chagrined at the instantaneous and petty turn her musings had taken. She never deluded herself into thinking she was above such human emotions as jealousy, or even the occasional bout of selfish ire, but this was getting ridiculous…it wasn't as if his having a relationship with a woman bothered her in the slightest! It was only his poor choice of companions that she found so objectionable.

Really, if anything, she should still be angry over his refusal to back her decision to make a deal with the Borg in return for safe passage through their space…but she'd forgiven him that, for the most part…he'd been doing what he thought was right. When she was honest with herself, like now, Kathryn had to admit that her decision had been uncharacteristically unilateral...

It was just that she'd assumed he was being overly sensitive after the fiasco with Riley Frazier was all, she decided definitively. She'd ignored his insistence that the Borg couldn't be trusted because it had come so soon after his...relationship with the rogue collective leader. They hadn't really spoken about it, but things had been a little…raw…between them ever since. Obviously she was confusing the issues, now that things had settled down enough that she could stop and reflect over them…

"Chakotay," she admonished sternly, largely to cover her discomfort at their proximity, and her shame over her unprofessional and bewildering resentment, "you can let go now! I'm not going anywhere."

He showed no signs of having heard her, and his firm grip around her waist gave no indication of slackening. His eyes bore into hers, and she found herself shivering at the sheer intensity in them as they glowed reflectively in the moonlight. Just as she was beginning to grow distinctly annoyed with his lack of responsiveness, he clipped, "Right. I've heard _that_ before."

His brooding was really wearing on her last nerve, she decided. And his presumption was getting simply out of hand. _I tried, _she reasoned to herself. _I tried to cut him some slack; I really did. _But he didn't even seem willing to meet her half way, and if he thought for one minute that she was going to tolerate his flat insubordination… _Well, he obviously doesn't "__know__" me as well as he __**thinks**_ _he does_!

She was tired. She was tired, she was cold, she was – wonder of wonders – _hungry_, and she had a massive headache, probably from caffeine withdrawal. Her ankle was sore as hell, and she couldn't seem to stop sniping at her first officer. Trumping all of that, however, was that they had yet to locate their missing crewmen and now had a badly disabled shuttlecraft to repair before they even had a chance of recovering Harry and Tom. She refused to believe the Myrani when they told her that her helmsman and operations officer had most likely been lured into one of the various quantum singularities peppering this part of space. For one thing, Tom was too damned good of a pilot and for another…she'd know if they had met with some unfortunate end. She'd know. They were alive. They had to be; she refused to believe that they were gone.

She'd find them. Just as soon as they shook off their unwanted…escort...they'd double back to the warehouse and find a way to trace the aliens back to their ship.

_Damn, what I wouldn't give for just a few sips of even Neelix's coffee right now_, she lamented, then brought herself up short. _No, the situation isn't quite __**that**__ desperate yet…_

But Chakotay, damn him, wasn't making her mood any lighter. Despite her assurances, he still hadn't moved to release her, and that coupled with potent adrenaline and sheer misery had her snapping, "Commander, we have more pressing concerns at the moment than your mother hen compulsion, or your chauvinist tendencies, or whatever the hell it is that feeds your misplaced need to keep me under your thumb at all times!" Her voice crackled with unmistakable annoyance, even at a fierce whisper. "So you can either let go of me of your own accord and I'll overlook your little indiscretion…_this_ time…or –"

"Or what?" he hissed, at the end of his rope with both her foul mood of the past few weeks and, most notably, with her insistence upon making his life a living hell by trying to get herself killed on a regular basis. "You'll put me on report?" he demanded, with a bitter little laugh as he tightened rather than slackened his grip.

He had no idea what had come over him, and could only speculate that it was the resurgence of the Maquis in him, the rebel, combined with the heart-stopping terror of seeing her standing, alone, amidst the throng of the dangerous Oran streets at night.

It felt good, he decided: shedding the forced civility they'd been maintaining between them for weeks now...telling her how he really felt. Why hadn't he done this sooner? "What, Kathryn?" he challenged fiercely. "What will you do if I don't? Demote me?" He laughed again, only fueled in his resolve by the incredulous glare he received for his rank insubordination, "Don't bother; I resign! You don't let me do my job properly anyway! Now, are you going to tell me who those men were, and what you meant by finding Harry and Tom, or are we just going to sit here arguing all night until your friends come back and find us?"

Kathryn stared, slack-jawed. She couldn't help it; he'd certainly never spoken to her like that before…and as for him _resigning_…not if she had anything to say about it! Not before she had the chance to demote him first! Incensed, nonplussed, she fixed him with the iciest glare of disdain she could muster and promised, "We'll deal with your appallingly unacceptable attitude later, _Commander; _count on that."

She meant it, too. What in the world had gotten into him? "As for my 'friends', let's just say I overheard them talking by chance while I was out looking for you."

"Which you had no business doing in the first place!" he interjected heatedly, not at all cowed by the reprimand she'd dealt him.

She chose to ignore him entirely this time; if she addressed his attitude again now, it wasn't going to be a pretty sight. And they couldn't afford to be overheard in a shouting match. "I was passing by what looked to be an abandoned building when I noticed muffled conversation coming from an open window at the back of the warehouse."

"Warehouse?" he prompted, not losing an ounce of his heated intensity. "What kind of warehouse? What was in it?"

She glared at him, her ankle shooting with sharp pains from having twisted it horribly, falling over stacks of cargo crates in her haste to escape her pursuers. It only increased her irritation: no small feat, considering… "Well, that's what I wanted to know, too. I thought it might be a place where we could access the supplies you haven't been able to procure."

He groaned. The picture of what had happened in the moments before he'd found her was becoming all too clear, and he finally released her, much to her relief. "So you, being the inimitably curious little cat that you are," he spat caustically, "couldn't resist sneaking closer for a better look." At her shrug of acceptance, he groaned again. "And what did you see?"

That was going to be the hardest part, she knew: admitting to the insufferable man Chakotay had become since crashing the shuttle that he had, in fact, been right… With a little sigh of resolve, she managed, "From the look of things, they'd abducted a few of the Orans, and were inspecting 'the merchandise', as they put it. Speculating about the 'marketability' of their quarry."

He hissed low, even more annoyed. _Couldn't listen to me, could you, Kathryn? _"You mean they were talking about the _profit_ they would recoup from _selling_ those people."

Suddenly very interested in the ground, Kathryn stretched out her sore ankle, which was rapidly swelling around the flat shoes she wore. She nodded stiffly. "Yes."

"You _mean_," he continued, emphasizing his point with relentless intensity, "that they're _slavers_."

Again she nodded, more than slightly annoyed by his distinct lack of grace. If there was anything she hated in this galaxy, it was a smug winner…

"_Slavers_," he repeated, "that you _insisted_ didn't exist here."

Kathryn mentally groaned. There was no denying it; she had done exactly that. She _had_ at least been inclined to believe the Myrani governor when he'd boasted that the outskirts of Myrani space were the safest of any in the quadrant. It had certainly seemed so at the time. It was why she'd allowed Harry and Tom to split off from Voyager and do some exploring of the nearby nebula…and why she'd brushed off Chakotay's concerns back at the shuttle wreckage. Not that she didn't always ignore his concerns, but as she recalled now with an embarrassed flush (that didn't really exist), she'd been particularly smug about it this time…

"_Slavers_," he continued, peeking cautiously around the waste bins before ducking back behind them to address her pointedly, "whom you maintained were just the figment of an overprotective first officer's imagination, and a bullying tactic to keep you –"

"They were discussing their latest 'haul'," she interrupted, a bit more loudly than was exactly prudent, and lowered her voice accordingly as she continued to glower at her mutinous first officer, "and mentioned two male humanoids they'd snatched in a captured shuttle. From the description, it sounded like Tom and Harry, so when they left for what they termed a last 'cull of the marketplace', I–"

He wanted to throttle her. Spirits, this time he could actually see it, he decided. Staring, fascinated, at her thin white throat, the image solidified before his eyes: his fingers, closing around the elegant column of her neck…"You decided to move in and get an even closer look," he accused, leveling her with a glower the likes of which she hadn't seen since their first meeting, the day he'd stared down Tom Paris on the bridge.

At the time, she'd stepped in between them to catch his attention, and the look in his fierce dark eyes when he'd finally deigned to acknowledge her presence… _damn_.

"They're the ones who shot us down."

_Huh_? It was difficult to focus. There was distinctly pleasant warmth spreading throughout her body, enveloping her with a tingling longing. His proximity, his angry energy as he sat coiled up like a powerful animal ready to spring at a moment's notice, the scent of his distinctly male body – all sweat and musk and powerful aggression – tickled her nostrils, suddenly drowning out the stench of garbage which surrounded them and making her chest swell with a sudden tightness…

He never challenged her. Not really. No one did: she was the captain. Even when they'd had their disagreement over Species 8472 recently, he hadn't spoken to her like _this_. Who _was_ this man? She was hardly even listening to him anymore, such was the hold that he now exerted over her with the look in his eyes. In this uncharacteristic anger which had apparently seized a hold of her normally pliant and biddable first officer, he was undeniably compelling. It was maddening. It was infuriating! It was…her gaze was drawn to his full lips, watching the movement there if not hearing the words they produced…

"And you did!"

Amazingly, that glare only intensified, and she hadn't thought that possible!

"Without waiting to find me, without waiting for backup of any kind, you went into that building unarmed, without a thought to what they might do to you if you were caught. Which you obviously were, or they wouldn't have been chasing you all over town, trying to blow your pretty little head off! _Kathryn_!" he shook her, his hands inexplicably having found their way to her shoulders without her noticing and she could have died to realize that she'd been ogling him instead of focusing on his words. "Are you even listening to a word I'm saying??"

_What in the hell was _wrong _with her??_

His movement jostled her considerably as he shook her none-too-gently, eliciting a pained groan from her in spite of herself. She clutched at her ankle, which was swelling with alarming rapidity now that she'd stopped moving and rested it beneath her weight.

He dropped her abruptly, following her movement with a combination of disgust and alarm. Settling his heated glare on the swollen black and blue skin which peeked out from beneath the hem of her pant leg, he cursed vehemently, drawing a surprised and doubly curious glance from his captain. "Let me see it," he demanded flatly, reaching downward.

She shooed him away, still angry over his bizarre defiance. Why now? she wondered. If anything, _she_ was the one with the right to be angry, not him! Who had betrayed whom here? Who was the one who got off on screwing Borg…

What in the name of God was wrong with her? She really would have to stop putting off those yearly physicals with the doctor from now on. Clearly, she was suffering from some sort of…abnormal hormonal imbalance…or something of the kind. She'd never in her entire career been unable to separate her personal thoughts from the day to day operations of the ship before…never. Not once in…well there was Justin, she realized, but that had been because...she froze, in the midst of pushing Chakotay's hand away from her throbbing – oh God, was it throbbing – ankle. After all of this, after staying so focused on her mission to get the crew home for so long…could it be?

She stared at him, transfixed by her own train of thought.

She wasn't a stupid woman. She knew full well she'd been…abnormally testy…these last few weeks, but it certainly had nothing to do with _jealousy_, for God's sake! It wasn't as though she were in love with him, or had any hold on him at all; she didn't _want_ to! He was her first officer, her good friend…her best friend, even. If he wanted to pursue a relationship with another woman, any woman, for that matter, then he had every right to do so. She didn't care. It wouldn't matter, she'd be happy for him! Of course she was happy that he'd found some–

The thought wasn't even finished and the unfamiliar, seemingly inexplicable ire was surging in her once again. Anger, boiling, seethed upward within her breast to simmer just at the surface where she barely managed to restrain it from exploding outward.

But she'd thought…he'd made her think that he at least cared for her _a little_. Even if they hadn't been able to explore their deep friendship, and the depths it could possibly hold if given a chance… She'd thought he'd really meant what he said. She thought _he_, at least, had those feelings for _her_.

She'd been so stupid! She could hear the words like it was yesterday instead of a year ago that he'd spoken them…

"_And the angry warrior swore to himself that he would stay by her side, doing whatever he could to make her burdens lighter. From that point on, her needs would come first. And in that way, he began to know the true meaning of peace_."

Bullshit!

She'd been the only woman on the planet; of course he hadn't meant it. He was only trying to get her into bed. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have fallen for such foolish, juvenile…_nonsense_? No matter how convincingly he'd uttered those words or how attentively he hung on her every word _–_ like he really _did_ love her _–_ she should have known better. She was an adult, damn it, she should have seen through the obvious rhetoric and dismissed it as such. Instead, she'd been a fool; she'd believed his every obscure word. She glared at him again, disappointed in his apparent shallowness, and once again pushed his hand away from her foot.

_The bastard, _she seethed, unable to help herself._ That bastard sold me a bill of goods, and he made me fall for him –_

She went white, the blood draining from her face as the reason for her recent behavior…reminiscent of a much more childish version of herself, when she'd been in love with Justin Tighe and insecure over that love…hit her.

And it hit her _hard_.

_Chakotay_. _He made me fall for him_…She panicked. Calm, cool, in control, tough-as-nails Janeway panicked.

Oh God, what had she _done_?

She loved him! She genuinely, in her heart of hearts, _loved_ him – was _in _love with him! All this time, it had been staring her right in the face and she'd been ignoring the obvious signs…

She couldn't believe it had come to this. After everything she'd worked so hard to maintain: her distance, her focus, _everything_…he'd come along and shot it all to hell with a damned ancient legend. A damned _fake_ ancient legend, no less!

"No!" she hissed, even more harshly than she'd intended. She was furious: with him, with herself, with fate for cursing her with feelings for a man who, even if it had been appropriate for her to fall in love with, obviously no longer felt the same way about her…if he ever really had in the first place. She was angry with the whole, damned, fucked up situation.

He couldn't be allowed to touch her like that: casually, familiarly. As though he had somehow earned the right to…

"No, you can't." She shoved him aside once more, ignoring his angry protests turned pure concern at the sudden, dramatic, and clearly terrified look on his stubborn captain's face.

"Kathryn, what is it?" he demanded, alarmed. He reached out to catch at her arm, her shoulder, anything to make her still and explain her sudden jerky movements. "What's wrong?"

She scrambled to get away from him, knocking over a less filled bin in her mad haste to put some distance between them. It echoed in the eerie silence of the deserted alleyway. "No!" She insisted, more loudly, as he reached out an urgent hand to stop her, to find out what was suddenly so wrong with her, and mostly, to keep her quiet before –

She stopped, mid-movement, and suddenly went stiff. When he rose to his feet to steady her, and to find out just what the hell her problem was, he froze just as abruptly, still looking at her face.

There was a gleaming, silver, lethal-looking disruptor at her temple.

Horrified, Chakotay followed the sleek lines of the formidable weapon past the gloved hand holding it, and looked squarely into shining yellow eyes and sharp pointed teeth which gleamed menacingly at him in the moonlight. His stomach sank at the sight of the five men who had been chasing them. They were all now standing around the bins that had concealed him and Kathryn from view.

"See, Enahr," the man with the strong voice practically purred to the one holding the weapon at Kathryn's head, "I told you they couldn't have gone far." He sauntered up to Chakotay, smiling widely, looking him up and down. All the while, he kept his weapon prominently pointed at the first officer's chest. "Well," he continued, eyeing his prey with obvious appreciation, "you gave us quite a chase, but that's no matter; my men can use the exercise. And you, my well-built alien friend, are going to have plenty of that too, where you're going."

Chakotay tensed, preparing to make a move, and met Kathryn's eyes. They were wide, but determined. He knew that look; he loved that look.

He feared that look.

She opened her mouth to speak, but her words were not directed at him. "You can let him go, he isn't involved in th–"

She got no further. Chakotay was forced to watch in horror as the weapon at her temple moved swiftly, shifting down to aim at her lower back.

In an instant, he was springing forward to knock her free of the path of weapon's fire. "Kathryn!" he cried out, trying to warn her of the impending disaster, but he was too late.

With a short blast of yellow energy, she was struck, point blank. Kathryn gave only a little cry of pain and then crumpled to the ground, where she lay still.

Unmoving.

"No!" he roared, just managing to reach for her before a burst of fire struck his insides and he fell, centimeters short of his goal, to slump over her. He had a vague idea that, if she wasn't dead, he was likely to be crushing her under his considerable weight. After that, he knew no more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**: The members of the crew of Voyager are not mine; they belong to Paramount.

**Rating**: T for the language. :)

**Notes**: Thanks to Cheile, who looked over the first section and kicked my ass into more careful word selection. ;)

* * *

"They weren't wearing uniforms. You're sure they're the same race as the other two?"

"No question. The facial features, the body structures are nearly identical. And that shuttle we shot down had the same energy readings as the ship in Bay Two."

Two voices, oddly familiar, were his first connection with reality.

"I wonder how many more of them there are, then. I like the looks of some of the men…sturdy. There must be a larger ship of them."

"Why do you say that?"

"Those shuttles aren't built for long-range travel, and yet they're in excellent condition, even though these little alien beauties _obviously_ aren't from this sector."

"If there are more to be had, you'll find them, eventually."

There was a snort of laughter. "Of course I will. But don't think this gets you off the hook for snatching the first two without my permission, Enahr."

The first voice, low and clear, held an undeniable air of danger to it, for some reason. Chakotay thought he should know the voice but nothing really seemed to make sense. Something nudged his back, but he couldn't say what. He couldn't say much of anything…and he definitely couldn't move. His every muscle ached, screamed with tension: a heavy stun setting. The aftereffects were unmistakable.

"Yes. Delicious specimen, this one," the first voice continued to drawl, this time from much closer. "Nicely muscled, but let's do something about toning him up."

"Of course." The second voice, slightly higher, didn't concern him as much.

"The men will fetch a handsome profit. Damned Orans are so thin. And the Myrani are impossible to sell with their weak constitutions and disgusting, flaky epidermis. It'll be nice to have some variety to offer our clients for once."

The words washed over him, but their meaning wasn't sinking in. How had he been stunned? Who had shot him? He found he couldn't recall. He also couldn't move, but for another reason besides the stun effects: something was restricting the exploratory flexing of his sore arms and legs. Vaguely, he came to the baffling conclusion that he was restrained for some reason.

"And the woman?"

Silence. Then: "Check her over. See what she looks like, how she's constructed. Let me know if there's anything worth salvaging there. If there isn't, we'll have to kill her. I want to look in on our heading, make sure it isn't too direct. Don't want anyone coming after the cargo, after all."

"Take your time, Enlin. I'll take care of them down here until you get back."

There came the sound of fading footsteps, then the creaking of something heavy swinging open, probably a door…

"And Enahr?"

"Yes?" The second voice, Enahr's, came from nearer Chakotay's ear this time, from closer to his side. The alien sounded as though he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't…

"No sampling the merchandise yet, eh? Not until we determine what value, if any, she'll fetch on the market. This one doesn't look too hardy, and I don't want you detracting from what little value she might be hiding under that outfit."

_She._ It flooded back to him, hitting him without warning and he jolted fully awake, finally. Kathryn. They'd been hiding, hiding from…

He forced his eyes wide open, frantically searching for any sign of her. She'd been hit…oh, Spirits, this time she might really have…!

She was right in front of him, lying next to him on the metallic, grated floor. She, too, was bound hand and foot, and more and more of her was becoming visible as her clothing fell away under the ministrations of the slaver called Enahr. He couldn't see her blue eyes from this angle, but he was willing to bet that they were glaring their captor down with a vengeance. By this point she was in her underwear, and Chakotay, automatically glancing downward over himself, saw that he seemed to have been stripped down, too…

"Get off," she hissed, her throat sounding sore and her voice rusty. Still, there was no denying the classic fire in that tone, and Chakotay was briefly relieved to note that it seemed as though she'd recover from the effects of the stun.

He also took a half second to note the spattering of heavy bruising evident along the left side of her mostly bare back: from the fall, or from his own weight when he'd landed squarely atop her?

He couldn't tell, but it looked like it hurt and he winced in sympathy.

The man laughed as Chakotay watched Kathryn's body jerk back from the alien's pawing hands with a healthy amount of vigor for someone who'd just been stunned…

Shit. His hands and feet were bound with unforgiving metal restraints…as were hers. Just what the hell was he supposed to do now? Damn it, he was really going to strangle her: this was entirely Kathryn's fault. If she'd stayed put, as he'd _begged_ her to…if she wasn't so damned curious about every last blasted thing in the galaxy… If she wasn't so damned headstrong and contrary…

_She wouldn't be the woman you love_, the little voice in his head reminded him.

For the billionth time, he wished she wasn't that woman. Then, maybe, he wouldn't be headed to the early grave she seemed intent upon digging for him at every opportunity…

Enahr grasped her firmly by the shoulders, pulling her wriggling form back towards him and across the grated floor. "Easy," he chuckled lightly, "No use fighting me, you aren't going anywhere anyway…"

Watching the confident man grin made him queasy. "Hey, _friend_…hands off!" Chakotay snarled, more than angry at the cloaked man's audacity and simultaneously enraged that she'd gotten herself, and him, into yet another dangerous situation.

His throat was parched, and his voice was no clearer than Kathryn's. He knew that dehydration was a standard side effect of being stunned, but he'd bet a week's rations that the stifling heat in the dirty room was responsible for at least half of his incredible thirst. He'd kill for a glass of water…

And he'd start with the creep manhandling the woman he loved.

Enahr merely glanced lazily over at him, unimpressed. "I see you're awake," he leered, grinning toothily. "How's the head?"

Chakotay glared at the smug man, doing his level best to burn the alien with the heat of his eyes alone. "It's fine." It hurt like hell. "Thanks for asking. And unless you back off, when I get out of these cuffs, I'm going to make you sorry your mother ever brought you into this galaxy," the commander promised evenly.

The alien sneered, giving Chakotay an excellent view of his oddly lined, black skin and glinting, pointy teeth. He stared Voyager's first officer in the eyes while he pointedly began familiarizing himself with the slim body in front of him. "_Sorry_," he shrugged, looking anything but repentant. "I have to see how she's put together so we can determine where to market her. Orders and all, you understand?" He paused briefly, before inquiring slyly, "Why? Was she yours?"

He knew better than to answer that one. Kathryn's shoulders stiffened visibly and Chakotay took a half second to be annoyed by it. _Nice, _he thought disgustedly, _she's got some alien bastard mauling her, yet it's the mere idea that someone might think we're a couple that gets her hackles raised…_

Enahr pulled the edge of her bra aside, peeking over the material with a quick grin for Chakotay's benefit.

He couldn't help it; he growled, and opened his mouth to reiterate his point more clearly, but she beat him to it.

"Ever heard of scanning equipment, _Mister_ Enahr?" she drawled at him through very audibly gritted teeth, her voice all icy sarcasm as she made no secret of her complete disdain for his tactics. Her tone would have frozen the man in his tracks if he had been one of her people.

But of course he wasn't. Enahr only smiled, alternating that infuriating grin between the two humans as he continued his "inspection". "She always this spirited?" he inquired tauntingly of the helpless human just behind her.

_If you only knew, _Chakotay lamented silently. His eyes caught for a moment at the sight of her glorious red hair, which had fallen mostly free from its clasp at the nape of her neck, spilling in a disheveled tangle over her elegantly curved back. Hating himself for his weakness, he couldn't help but find the contrast between her white skin – did she ever get off the ship and get any natural sunlight…no, of course she didn't – against the rich, auburn tones of her long hair deeply distracting. He silently prayed that Enahr's species didn't share their views of aesthetics with humans.

Lifting her with one muscled arm, Enahr adjusted and readjusted her remaining clothing with unfortunate ease, and took his time accomplishing his task. Laughing at the growl from the other human, he directed his words at the captain, pulling her face up to within inches of his. "Now why would I use a scanner when the old fashioned way works just as well…and has ten times the benefit?"

He clucked a forked tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "You're trying to take all the fun out of my job, honey!"

Kathryn froze momentarily, blinking into the alien's mocking eyes. What the hell had he just called her?

_Honey?? _Chakotay was torn between a snort of inappropriate laughter and a groan of pain.

She'd take more than the _fun _out of him…if she could ever manage to get out of these things… _Honey?! _Janeway muttered under her breath, swearing, wriggling her hands as much as possible within the tight metal of the restraints. They dug into her wrists, painfully bruising, but she continued to work at them, doing her best to ignore the almost unbearable ache in her ankle, which was now doubly swollen around its tight restraint…

She realized that he'd heard her idle threats when he regarded her impassively for a long moment, and she waited with slight apprehension to see his reaction…

He only patted her cheek in a condescending fashion, saying: "Well, honey, I can't say much for your _assets_ so far. Not much better than an Oran…fairly worthless, from what I can tell."

"Thanks," Janeway deadpanned, unsure whether to be grateful she wasn't an ideal "product", or mortified that her first officer was here to listen to Enahr's frank appraisal of her physical attributes. _Great. Not only am I not blond, not Borg, and not young, but as he so kindly felt the need to point out…in front of Chakotay…I'm not exactly well-endowed, either._

"Really, with all that wonderful technology on your shuttles, you're telling me you couldn't have…helped nature along a bit?"

_Like the doctor "helped it along" with Seven of Nine? _She couldn't help wondering bitterly, before she could stop herself.

Kathryn's face absolutely burned with mortification. When she thought about it, she really _had_ been stupid to believe that the most eligible bachelor on her ship had wanted her at all. Sure, when he hadn't had any other _options_, maybe…

At least he still seemed to hate the very idea of Seven of Nine, enough not to have noticed _her_ striking looks…yet. But Janeway had already resolved that the commander would be kept out of the young woman's care as much as possible. She'd told herself that the reason for her decision was to avoid any awkwardness over the fact that Chakotay had, in fact, tried to space the drone, but the fact that she'd made the decision at the exact moment the doctor had so proudly revealed the Borg drone to be an amply endowed, blond beauty…

She absolutely refused to contemplate what that said about her – as a woman or as a captain.

"You're downright skinny, too," the alien grunted, still idly looking her over for defects.

Kathryn threw him a mock look of regret. "So sorry to disappoint you," she grated, glad that Chakotay at least couldn't see her now undeniably burning face. "I don't suppose you'll let us go now, seeing as we're so worthless?" Ever the consummate diplomat, she mustered a half convincing smile and stopped working at her bonds. "Really, you know, if you did, we could both forget about this entire incident and be on our way…"

Enahr cocked his head to the side. "_You're_ worthless. Mostly. We were just going to shoot _you._" He jerked a thumb in Chakotay's direction. "But then you met up with this one. And he's built for hard labor, there's no questioning _that_. There's always the chance we can sell you as a pair to be bred off later. Between the two of you, we stand to make a nice little sum."

Oh, _fantastic_. This was getting better and better by the second. She debated telling him that conception of any children was unlikely given the contraceptive shots each of the crew took on a regular basis but decided against it. The captain wouldn't give him the satisfaction of any additional details about Voyager or its people. Doing so would only put the ship in danger, and she'd no idea of the tactical capabilities Enahr's people possessed.

She wondered where Voyager was, and how long it would take for Tuvok to find them. The slight vibrations beneath her – the ones the physicists were always swearing didn't really exist – told her that they were definitely on a ship traveling at warp speed. She wondered where Tom and Harry were being held; there was no doubt in her mind now that Enlin…or someone who worked for him…had captured her missing crewmen.

"Get. Your. Hands. OFF of her," Chakotay repeated, not trusting the man's apparent disinterest in Kathryn, especially as it was at complete odds with the alien's still wandering eyes and the glint the commander recognized in them.

They both ignored him, Janeway trying once again to reason with their captor, who finally removed his groping hands, if only briefly.

"Really, it can't be worth all this trouble. My…partner and I are wealthy, you know."

If by "wealthy" one meant having nothing, except for a barely adequately staffed starship in desperate need of both supplies and repair…it didn't detract from the sincerity in her husky voice in the slightest. "We can compensate you for whatever profit you might stand to lose by letting us go."

Enahr simply laughed again, making Janeway itch to work her hands free just so she could smack that irritating grin off his face. "Oh, no, I don't think so." He turned his gaze downward again. "You're not _that_ bad, honey; you're nicely proportioned overall. And your skin is quite soft: feels very nice to the touch." He touched a leathery fingertip to her cheek, tapping lightly. "And you have beautiful eyes. Makes me wonder what they would look like smoldering with passion…"

_Wonder all you want, but you'll never find out, _Janeway and Chakotay both thought darkly at the same time.

Enahr grinned even more toothily. "If we can't sell you, then I'll probably get to keep you. And, lucky for you, I don't mind that you're skinny; we'll probably enhance you anyway before trying to sell you."

"Yes, lucky me," she repeated dully. Her heart sank. Not that she'd expected it to be that easy, but she found herself hoping that they could somehow get out of this relatively unscathed and with no one the worse for wear...

The mention of "enhancing" her was strangely not as frightening as it probably should have been. Kathryn found herself wondering what these enhancements would entail, and whether or not they would do anything for her "lack of assets"…

"I'm warning you, Enahr!" Chakotay's furious voice growled from somewhere over her shoulder. "Back _off_!"

Kathryn was much less concerned than she knew Chakotay was. She'd been conscious for some several minutes longer than he had, and she'd had the opportunity to observe the interaction between their captors more closely. She knew that Enahr, the one with them in the cargo hold, was completely subordinate to Enlin, the apparent leader of this…smuggling ring…or whatever their operation was most accurately termed. Enahr had been ordered not to harm her, at least not significantly, and she knew he wouldn't disobey those orders. He seemed to have a healthy fear of Enlin: Enahr wouldn't risk antagonizing him.

No, what concerned her was the sheer inconvenience of being pawed by the oaf in front of her, the sharp pain the restraints were shooting through her injured ankle, and the embarrassment of knowing that Chakotay was staring at her appallingly scantily clad backside all the while. Her appallingly scantily clad _skinny_ backside…_Though maybe_, she mused sarcastically to herself, _they'll enhance that, too_...

She wondered what Chakotay would think if they did…

Of course it could have been worse, and she'd far prefer that it was Chakotay who saw her in her underwear, if it had to be anyone from the ship. But she couldn't help feeling that he was staring at her. She thought she could feel his familiar eyes on her skin and found herself wondering whether he was comparing her to the younger…and most likely firmer…Riley Frazier. She knew she was flushed this time, but attributed it to the obscene heat of the cargo hold in which she and her first officer were being held.

She was thoroughly ashamed at herself for her selfish thoughts of late. And the shame she felt at her abysmally stupid, entirely over-reactive behavior down on the planet…a healthy dose of self-hatred flooded through her. This was entirely her fault. She was, frankly, only getting what she deserved for putting the two of them in danger with her lack of caution…for putting her crew in danger by not being properly informed about a potentially dangerous region of space. It didn't matter that all the local, independent reports had confirmed the Myrani governor's assertions.

On a side (but somewhat related) note, it didn't matter that her first officer, for whom she had inappropriately and potentially devastatingly fallen, had pursued her first. She was an adult, mature, and smart enough to know better. She should have guarded herself more carefully.

More importantly, she should stop giving him more of her shuttles to crash into planets: planets either with or without gorgeous blonds who…

_Damn, _she was doing it _again_!

She used the intensity of her self-loathing to pack even more heat into her glare. Kathryn endured the rest of Enahr's explorations in silence, fixing her penetrating stare directly upon him. For all the good it did, she might have smiled encouragingly instead, but he wasn't hurting her. He was merely embarrassing her with his scrutiny.

Just as she'd resigned herself to allowing Enahr his cheap thrill, Kathryn winced as her swollen ankle throbbed in the restraints, jostled as she slid out of the alien's grasp to tumble the few millimeters from his lap onto the floor. With a last, probing glance over her, he clambered to his feet, wiping his hands together with the satisfaction of a job well done. He smiled. "There we are; now I know how you're built. That wasn't so bad, now, was it, honey?"

She snarled at him, but didn't give him the satisfaction of a verbal response. He turned to leave, giving Chakotay a wink for good measure as he headed for the only doorway in the room. Once more, Voyager's first officer was torn between two emotions: lingering resentment over Kathryn's foolhardy stubbornness and utter relief that she was going to be left alone, at least for now. He, too, wondered at the nature of the "enhancements" Enahr mentioned, but the commander was less than impressed with the notion. For one, he thought Kathryn perfect just the way she was, much to his chagrin. She was beautiful, naturally so, and if these alien bastards couldn't see it then so much the better…maybe they'd keep away from her. He also feared the potentially negative side effects of whatever procedures they had planned and hoped the alien was only trying to embarrass her with idle threats.

Either way, Chakotay couldn't resist a parting shot. "Where are you going, Enahr?" he growled sarcastically. "Don't you want to inspect _me_ now? See how _I'm_ constructed?"

Enahr paused briefly, turning back to regard the human male lying, bound, on the floor. He grinned again. "No need. That's what scanners are for." He headed again for the exit, calling over his shoulder as he did so, "You two behave yourselves while I'm gone, now. I promise you don't want to see Enlin angry; it's not a pretty sight."

The door clanged shut behind him, and the two humans were left alone together in the stifling room.

Chakotay waited for Kathryn to roll over onto her side and face him so they could start planning some kind of escape. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence. She did neither, instead opting to remain facing in the opposite direction.

"Kathryn?" he tried after a moment of maddening silence, wondering if she was still shaken by the way Enahr had treated her, "Are you all–"

She interrupted him with a hiss of impatience, "Oh, for the love of – I'm fine, Commander," she clipped, apparently catching herself just in time.

He really could be ridiculous sometimes. And the proprietary concern for her well-being…was a mockery to her now. She felt certain that it must be his idea of a sick joke. _As if he really cares one way or the other! Hell, if I die, he gets to be captain! Isn't that what he said once? _

"He barely touched me," she managed more calmly. "And I really wish you wouldn't be so overprotective. I know we're…friends…but it's inappropriate, and there's no reason for it." Her tone brooked no further inquiry on the subject.

This time he actually saw stars in front of his eyes, and not just the familiar streaks of red.

_Inappropriate_?? No _reason_ for it?? Chakotay had never been so glad to be restrained in his entire life. Otherwise, Voyager might really have been minus one red-headed captain – permanently. "Kathryn," he began warningly, but she cut him off once again with infuriating calm.

"It's 'Captain', Commander."

She had to be _kidding_ him! Though he couldn't say he thought much of her sense of humor right now… "I resigned, remember?" he hissed, the disbelief strong in his hoarse voice.

"I remember nothing of the kind. And your attitude is both insubordinate and counterproductive to a timely–"

"Damn it, Kathryn!" He finally exploded, the magnified boom of his own voice startling him but not enough to stem the tirade that had been bottled up, steadily building for weeks. "Cut it out, will you? It's growing tiresome!"

"It's 'Captain', Commander," she reminded him icily, making him grit his teeth to the point of pain.

It was better this way, she decided: better for him, better for her, better for the ship as a whole. If she'd proven nothing else today, it was that she couldn't be trusted to handle a friendship with him…with anyone, probably.

She was in pain. Her heart had essentially been ripped out of her chest with the newly discovered reality of her feelings…the depth of those feelings. She loved him, and he did not return that love. She had to deal with that now, and the only way she knew to do so was to keep him more at arm's length. He'd be hurt by the loss of friendship, as would she, but in the end, it would be better.

True, perhaps she'd never have contemplated _acting _upon those feelings, not while maintaining a strong command structure was so vitally important for the crew, but…there was something so final about the knowledge that she couldn't have him even if she were able to break free of her strong personal bias – her fear – regarding involving herself romantically with someone serving under her…

It made the whole concept of that distance from those around her seem less important, somehow. It made her seriously reconsider the importance of that distance…it made the loneliness so much more potent. For the first time during their journey through the Delta Quadrant, Kathryn Janeway ruefully thought that, had she had the opportunity to do so, she might have been able to bring herself to take that final, frightening step…

But it was a moot point. There was no chance of that happening now. There was going to be no end to the heart-wrenching isolation of her position – not when he so clearly didn't feel the same way about her…

In that moment, she hated him for it. She hated him for making her see what she could have, if she were less afraid of taking risks where her heart was concerned. She hated him for dangling the possibilities in front of her and then yanking them out from under her…

She was interrupted in her reflections by his erratic respiration. His breath came in huffs now, deep and ragged. Concerned at the noisy irregularity, fearing hyperventilation or something more sinister, Kathryn finally shifted herself around to get a look at him. When she'd managed the heroic feat of rolling over on restrained arms and a sprained if not broken ankle, she knew she wouldn't have the strength to reverse her position…

His face was almost scarlet, initially adding to her concern until she recognized that she was actually staring into the face of an enraged Chakotay, and that that face was only a few centimeters from hers now. The sight of her closest friend so angry he could barely breathe correctly – and the sight of his magnificent broad chest bared to her forbidden gaze – had her heart skipping beats. She forgot all thoughts of professional detachment, gaping soundlessly for a long moment as he apparently struggled for control. "Chakotay–" she began, wanting to mollify his anger somewhat, but it only seemed to madden him all the more.

"Don't!" he bellowed, blowing back wisps of her long hair with the force of his breath.

She flinched at very little in life, but the intensity of that shout, combined with the glare of…well, _rage_…that he fixed on her, of all people, was difficult to endure with stoic detachment. She knew she paled visibly, but he didn't seem to care.

That alone spoke volumes about just how over the edge her first officer had been driven, and Kathryn shivered. What had _she_ done? She wondered incredulously. What could _she_ possibly have done to lead Chakotay to this level of losing control?

"Don't," he hissed, warning her with the intensity in his dark eyes. For once, she listened. "I've put up with you lately because I thought that if I just left you alone, gave you enough time to come to your senses, you'd get this…mood…out of your system. Obviously, that hasn't happened and it isn't going to."

Any other time, she'd have bristled at the words he spoke, at the clear ire in his tone. Now, however, she was at a loss. The look he gave her made the glare she'd received in the alleyway pale by comparison. She wondered somewhere in the back of her mind whether this was the look that, for quite a few Cardassians, had been the last image they'd ever seen in life.

Not even the sight of his captain in her underwear was going to distract him now. He refused to focus on anything but her face as he finally let everything he'd been itching to say to her these last few weeks tumble from his mouth in one, angry rush. "You say you're a Starfleet captain, and you want me to be your first officer? Well fine! Then it's the first officer's duty to tell his captain the truth. And the truth of the matter is, _Captain, _that you've been acting like an insufferably spoiled, temperamental _bitch_."

Her eyes did flare at that, at the sheer audacity of him, and she opened her mouth to respond in kind. This wasn't the captain and commander speaking, as she'd intended, but Chakotay talking to Kathryn, no matter that he used her title to mask it. It didn't matter: _neither_ woman was going to take this lying down (metaphorically speaking of course) – not from him, of all people! "You unbe_lievably_ arrogant son of a–"

"That's right, _Captain_," he mocked angrily, cutting her off. "Go ahead – prove my point for me!" He shot her a look of pure disgust, ignoring the death glare, ignoring the promise of unpleasant things to come that her smoky eyes were delivering with a vengeance. "You can't handle the truth, can you? You can't handle someone disagreeing with you over any little thing anymore! No, you have to be in control, have to show everyone around you how all powerful the mighty Kathryn Janeway is, and to hell if anyone else has anything different to say!" On a roll and having no intention of stopping until he'd had his say, he continued to level his accusations, one after the other. "The crew has been working their tails off to make repairs to the ship, in some cases finishing well ahead of schedule, and all you can do is to tear people's heads off for not having formatted their reports properly. No one wants to come near you, and the crew has taken to drawing straws to see who's going to be the unfortunate soul who has to deliver bad news to you…because the last ten people who've told you something you didn't want to hear barely made it out of the ready room with their skins intact!"

"You know how I feel about exaggeration, Chakotay," Janeway finally cut in scathingly, fixing on one clear point at last, and using it as an entryway to dig into his tirade. "You're blowing this out of propor–"

"Believe me," he scoffed, "I wish I were! What the hell is wrong with you lately? You used to care about your people. You used to about their happiness, but nowadays it's like the rest of us are just one, big, inconvenient disappointment you have to put up with! Neelix worked hard to pull that little party together – mostly for you, I might add – and you couldn't even be bothered to show up!"

Janeway felt the sharp stab of remorse hit her at once. She hadn't known that Neelix had meant the little gathering in the mess hall for her, but in retrospect, she ought to have guessed: the Talaxian was forever striving to lift her spirits in some fashion. At the time, however, she'd been too overworked and miserable to bother attending, even though she'd definitely caught the note of disappointment in the chef's voice when she'd (rather testily) informed him that the ship's captain couldn't be expected to drop everything to attend an informal gathering on such short notice. Coloring slightly, Kathryn tried not to recall how she'd added a further rebuke over wasting precious ship's resources on such "frivolous endeavors". She ought to have known better than that. Of all people aboard Voyager, Neelix was the most conscious of the ship's stores and how to use them to maximum efficiency. Of course he'd have taken that into account…

She'd have to make it up to him and cringed inwardly at the thought of how many meals she'd be choking down in the mess hall with a smile plastered over her tortured lips in the weeks to come…

Despite the guilt, however, she was in no mood to yield to Chakotay in the slightest. Nothing excused his gross insubordination, and she certainly wasn't going to justify it by admitting he had a point.

"I was busy," was all he was afforded by way of a response.

Chakotay made a dismissive sound of utter disgust from somewhere in the back of his throat. "B'Elanna, Harry, and Tom have wanted to surprise you with that new design for nearly a year now. They put a lot of thought into that proposal; the least you could have done was to hear them out before laying into them for 'wasting valuable time' on 'non-essential activities'!" he countered angrily.

Here at least, Kathryn felt confident in her defense. "With the repairs to engineering not yet complete and the deflector array still not operating at peak efficiency, the use of my senior officers' spare time would have been better spent–"

"Since when has Starfleet put restrictions on what people can and cannot do in their spare time?" he parried directly. "I _do_ know a thing or two about shuttles, you know, and that design was pretty ingenious. This may not have been the best time to bring it up, but they were looking for a morale booster – one of their duties as senior officers – and they were eager to impress _you_. We could use a shuttle that's more maneuverable out here, and you know it. But after the way you dressed the three of them down, I'll be surprised if they ever summon the courage to mention it again!"

Here, too, she felt justified in her actions. Annoyed, she restated her position. "We don't have the resources to spare, Chakotay! I wish to hell we did, but we don't. If they want to impress me, they can focus their efforts on making sure that repairs are completed before we run into another hostile species…which, in case you haven't noticed, it looks as though we already have!"

He'd had it. The commander had been saving his last weapon, intending to use it only if absolutely necessary, but as usual, she was forcing his hand. Fixing her with a look of unadulterated contempt, he demanded, "Do you know why Tom and Harry wanted to explore that nebula in the first place? _Do_ you??" He didn't wait for her answer. "They went to get away from _you, _Captain,_" _he spat. "They couldn't stand it anymore and they begged me to talk you into letting them off the ship so that you'd stop breathing down their necks for five minutes! And they weren't the only ones begging to be kept away from your foul temper; the reason I volunteered to accompany you on this mission wasn't because I was eager to spend any time in close quarters with you, either…it was because no one else wanted to go!"

That one hit her right between the eyes. Her chest felt strangely tight. It couldn't be true; ergo, he was lying. Yes, she'd been…testy…and yes, she'd been…a bit of a perfectionist of late, particularly with the bridge crew, as they were her closest contacts…

But that was a far cry from hating her so much that they were dying to get away from her! He was lying. Heavens only knew why, but he was lying intentionally to hurt her feelings.

What a smug, vindictive bastard he was turning out to be! How could she have been so blind to his negative qualities for so long? How could her instincts…and her heart…have betrayed her so very thoroughly?

"How dare you?" she railed quietly, her face white with suppressed fury. "How _dare _you?" she practically whispered through her dry, aching throat. "Whatever your personal feelings may or may not be for me, Commander, you have no right to lie about the crew just to spite m–"

"'Personal feelings'?" he repeated incredulously, incensed at her accusation. She'd really stoop to just about anything to avoid admitting she'd been wrong, wouldn't she? It amazed him, the level of her denial, even through his intense anger.

And it really, really _sucked_ that Q had been right, at least about one thing: she _was_ beautiful when she was angry. With her chest heaving emotion like that, and the right side of one small, beautifully rounded breast threatening to escape the confines of the sensible (though not quite standard) black bra she wore, Chakotay was having one hell of a time keeping his traitorous eyes above the line of her neck. Spirits alive, if that happened, they were so close that there was an excellent chance her skin would actually brush against him…

He forced himself to focus on his attraction, rather than waste time fighting it, and decided that she was using _this_ against him, too…just as she had from the very beginning. She knew _exactly_ what she was doing to him; she probably got off on torturing him like this!

"What the hell are you talking about, 'personal feelings'?" he reiterated, hissing at the woman he wanted so desperately to throttle…or kiss …but the latter of course wasn't an option. Hadn't she made that clear enough, on many occasions, with her persistent refusal to acknowledge his feelings for her? And now she was…_using _those feelings against him? Outright? That had to be what she'd meant by "personal feelings". What else could she have been referring to?

Something in him snapped. "Are you really that cold-hearted, Kathryn?" he asked genuinely, dropping the pretense of 'captain'. He missed her eyes widening in confusion. "Can you be such a callous bitch that you have to stoop to obvious emotional manipulation just because you can't win an argument?"

Kathryn no longer felt the throbbing sting of her ankle, or the insistent pull of the restraints pinching her skin. She no longer consciously acknowledged the additional, masculine heat of his skin almost warmly brushing hers…

There was a sound in her ears rather like the roaring of the ocean…and she'd had enough. "You know what, Chakotay?" she asked rhetorically, in a deathly quiet voice. She had no conscious idea of the fact that there were tears…actual _tears_…stinging her burning eyes. All she could see was the face of the man in front of her – the man who'd stolen her heart and effectively crushed it within his indifferent palm as though it was nothing more than space dust to him. "On second thought, you were right," she whispered, glaring at him with an almost hatred-like intensity gripping her soul. "Making you my first officer was a mistake. I accept your resignation."

Oh _did_ she? And were those _tears_, for added effect? Amazing!

"Why?" he spat brutally, crushed by the obvious disdain he read in her now so cold-seeming eyes. "Because I was honest? Because I won't let you manipulate me anymore?"

How could he have been so wrong about her? Here he was, feeling like a complete ass for what had happened with Riley…for disobeying Kathryn's orders while she lay unconscious in sickbay…and for what? For this? For someone so cruel as to mock his feelings and use them to gain the upper hand in an argument?

To hell with that! Why did every woman he ever fell for have to turn out to be such a deceitful bitch?

And if she didn't stop heaving like that, practically right below his nose, she was going to have a nice distraction of her own digging into that adorably rounded little belly of hers in a moment… He decided she'd deserve it, too.

"Manipulation?" she laughed almost insanely, interrupting his scattered and bitter thoughts. In that one instant, she wished she had a hand free because she would have slapped him with it. "_Me_? You _are_ joking, aren't you? Isn't that _your_ specialty, Chakotay?"

Spirits she was infuriating! "What the hell does _that_ mean? You're not making any sense!" he roared, completely oblivious to the fact that he was, once more, yelling at her. "_My_ specialty? What are you talking about??"

She scoffed, ignoring the single tear that escaped to trickle sideways across her cheekbone and slosh silently onto the grating of the floor. Leaning back slightly, she averted her eyes away from him and muttered just loudly enough for him to catch: "Oh, I don't know…why don't you tell me _another_ ancient legend?" She huffed again, another mirthless chuckle. "Who knows? Maybe I'd even be stupid enough to fall for you again."

Everything froze for him in that instant. His heart stopped beating, halting the pounding of blood in his ears.

Had she…had she just said…

Had he heard what he thought he just heard?

There was no mistaking it; he had. His head felt funny. Somehow, he didn't think it was because of the stun this time. His heart wasn't working properly. Now it beat too fast, too loudly inside his chest. His neck was overly warm and his brain was fuzzy. His insides thrilled. His stomach was doing little flops of elation…his spirit soared.

His anger, all of the pent-up, frustrated, insanely torturous stress of working alongside the woman he loved more than life itself and yet couldn't touch…

She'd fallen for him. She'd…

She _loved _him!

Kathryn cringed at the silence, realizing what she'd said. _Oh, wonderful, _she thought bitterly. _Just what he needed: more ammunition to use against me!_ She tensed, waiting for the explosion, the outrage at her audacity, or worse, the laughter at her naïve stupidity.

It didn't come. All she heard in the moments following her shameful admission were the soft words he practically crooned beside her.

"Say it again."

Her heart sank. "Why? So you can mock me for it?" She sighed, still refusing to look at him. It hurt too much to look at him now. "Go to hell. You heard me. I'm not repeating myself."

"Say it again, Kathryn." This time, it wasn't a request. She caught the urgency in his voice and felt faintly sick at his eagerness to confirm her humiliation.

"Fine." She felt strangely broken and could no longer find it within herself to care what he thought or whether or not he respected her anymore. What did it matter? _Best to get this over with – let him laugh, if he wants to_. "For reasons I'll never understand, I was foolish enough to fall for you." She squeezed her eyes shut, an effort to stem the traitorous flow of tears. "Are you happy no–"

She got no further. In a blinding rush of motion, Chakotay somehow managed to rock himself forward and fall against her, knocking her over onto her back and half pinning her to the harsh metal floor. Breathless, in a daze of confusion, she managed a half-cry of anger before his lips came down hard on hers…

And then he was kissing her senseless. Kathryn registered the brief and lingering rational notion that she'd kick his ass later for his presumption, before she had no more thought for anything but the heavenly sensation of his mouth on hers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**: They aren't mine.

**Rating**: T

* * *

She'd never been kissed so thoroughly in her life. Her lips were bruised, her tongue full of the intoxicating taste of him, and her body… _Gods_, her entire body was tingling with suddenly unbearable longing, the likes of which she hadn't really been able to acknowledge for far too long now…

He kissed her as though he was a man starved for years, and suddenly had found a feast fit for a king hidden deep within the recesses of her mouth. He tasted her tongue, the roof of her mouth. He nibbled her lips…

He kissed her as though afraid that she would disappear entirely if he stopped for one single second. Even while gasping for air, he never broke contact with her mouth altogether.

He kissed her as though he'd been fatally poisoned, stung by some venomous creature, and the antidote was in her very breath…as though if he could just steal enough of it…

Somewhere, in the back of his passion-hazed brain, Chakotay thought that last metaphor was the most appropriate, somehow: stung. He'd been stung, yes...and now, at long last, he was finding relief for his fatal ailment: her.

And he'd be damned if she wasn't the best kisser he'd ever known in his life. It surprised the hell out of him…she was firm, hungry, and yielding by turns. Greedy, yet wonderfully open to the slightest suggestion of pressure from his lips or tongue… Compliant enough to feed his masculine need to direct the connection, yet daring enough to take what she wanted, too…

Kathryn felt the heat of his bare, warm flesh against hers. For a heady moment, she forgot she was a starship captain. She forgot that it was her first officer on top of her, forgot that she hated him. She forgot all the various reasons why this was wrong on so many levels...she forgot everything that came before the glorious, wanton need his expert lips and tongue were arousing within her traitorous body. But soon, too soon, she was more frustrated than satiated. She wanted to run her hands through his thick, soft dark hair. She wanted to rake her fingernails through it and down to his broad, muscular back, wanted to feel the muscles rippling there as he strained to keep from crushing her under the bulk of his weight. She wanted…

She groaned as he finally tore his lips away from her, pausing to catch at his bottom lip and nip it lightly between the edges of her teeth, then groaned again as his warm, perfect and sensual lips fastened to the spot just below her ear.

"You have no idea what I would give to have my hands free right about now," he whispered, his breath tickling the now-moistened skin of her neck. She heard him groan then, too, and couldn't help laughing. Kathryn smiled lazily up at him as he pulled back to see what had caused her to chuckle, of all things…_now_…

"What?" he demanded, staring down at her swollen, well-kissed and glistening lips with obvious fascination. Wildly, his eyes darted down to her barely clad chest and he sucked in his breath, forcing himself to find her half-closed eyes again. "What could you _possibly_ find funny about this situation?"

Again, that low, dry chuckle came. He thought it the most sensual sound he'd ever heard in that moment.

"I was just thinking the same thing…about hands, and what I'd like to be doing with them." Incredibly, the captain licked her delightfully tender lips, very suggestively running her eyes over the magnificent, sweaty lines of his body, paying particular attention to his regulation boxers and that which was so obviously contained within them.

The look on his face, as his apparently healthy imagination took her statement and ran with it, was priceless. His mouth (sore and swollen, too) dropped open a bit and he stared, slack-jawed, allowing his eyes to wander the creamy expanse of hitherto-forbidden-to-be-viewed flesh. He hitched in a ragged breath at what he saw, and that "distraction" he'd been worried about earlier…was now undeniably digging into her soft, slender thigh. "You're beautiful," he breathed, more to himself than to be audible.

That, of all things, seemed to cause a dark look to settle across her previously open features. Raising an eyebrow, she demanded, "As beautiful as, say…Riley Frazier?"

He had the good grace to look chagrined, at least. In fact, he turned a mottled shade of scarlet, as he tried to swallow and failed. "Ah. That," he responded, trying to draw out the conversation and to give himself time to prepare properly for the ensuing argument.

"Yes," she growled, shifting her weight beneath him to alleviate the uncomfortable pressure on her arms, which were still restrained behind her and now smarting uncomfortably. "_That_. Care to explain yourself, Commander?"

He should have known that she wouldn't show him any mercy. Truth be told, he knew he didn't really deserve any…not after the idiotic way he'd behaved on that planet. He could only hope that, once he'd told her the whole truth, she would find it in her heart to forgive him. If she didn't…

He gathered his courage, opening his mouth to answer for his crimes – and was promptly interrupted by the sounds of voices echoing outside of the room.

Kathryn and Chakotay barely had time to exchange a meaningful look between them (both looks, incidentally, contained a warning to remain silent and let the other handle the situation) before the door swung open to admit Enlin. The one in charge. The dangerous alien.

Enahr trailed closely behind him, and as he noted the way Chakotay's eyes carefully followed the path of the open doorway, the alien clicked the latch shut with a distinctive "clang".

Enlin's eyes widened as he took in the scene. He observed the male sitting tall above the female, straddling her, but upon closer inspection, most of the human's weight actually rested on his own knees...likely to avoid crushing her beneath him. They were still restrained, something the smuggler noticed with satisfaction, but what he and his subordinate had just interrupted was only too clear to be surmised. Both creatures were flushed, slightly breathless. The woman's lips were swollen, her hair in much more disarray than the last time he'd seen it (only an hour or so ago), and her clothing was in a considerable state of maladjustment…

Though he thought he might have attributed that last bit to Enahr's dependable curiosity. At any rate, what he saw displeased him, though for no real reason he could put his finger on. "Well." He sneered at the couple as the man moved awkwardly to shift himself off of his companion. "I see she IS yours," he noted wryly.

_She is now_, Chakotay silently vowed, catching her eyes as she, too, moved to sit up.

"Should have guessed from the way you two were fighting when Enahr left the room."

"They made up in record time," Enahr drawled with a little grin as he approached.

"That they did," Enlin agreed dryly. "Less than five minutes it took for us to make our way down here from the flight deck, and he looked ready to have her clothes off."

Kathryn ignored the heat of embarrassment at the thought of her entirely unprofessional behavior having been witnessed by their captors. To her credit, she only allowed the sensation for a split second before her famous composure settled like an iron shield over her features and all of her formidable focus was turned to analyzing the situation forming now.

"But that's rather unfortunate," Enlin continued as Enahr moved silently to the captain's side, and, against her stubborn protest, helped her into a standing position. Bending down, Enahr tapped in a code which released the restraints around her ankles, allowing them to fall to the floor.

"You'll eventually be separated for sale at the market, you know." Enlin sounded anything but sorry, anything but concerned. He certainly didn't spare a thought for the double glares he received from his captives. "Now, however, I've a few…questions." He turned to Chakotay, personally releasing the ankle restraints and helping the human male to rise to his feet, as well.

When Chakotay finally stood, he was once again subjected to the alien's intense scrutiny. He couldn't say he liked the sensation of being studied so closely very much at all.

"Now…which is the higher rank? Captain, or Commander?" he inquired mildly.

"Captain," she snapped immediately.

"Commander," Chakotay answered without hesitation, his voice overlapping Kathryn's.

They both turned to fix a heated glare upon each other.

Enlin eyed the two of them and then laughed coldly. "Yes, she _does_ have spirit. I see she has a temper to match the fire of her hair, Commander." Enlin's smile, though, was anything but friendly. Rather, it was filled with malice. He tossed the captain a look of contempt. "I knew there had to be _something_ in her to make up for that appalling lack of curvature…something to capture the attention of such a masculine specimen as yourself."

The leader moved to stand beside her, eyeing her through narrowed lids. Coldly, he swept his eyes over her from head to toe, reaching out a hand at one point to touch the skin of her arm, her shoulder, her back.

Kathryn met his gaze head on, refusing to give a millimeter. She didn't flinch, nor was she tempted to do so. Enlin's touch was emotionless, impersonal. He felt her skin with the detached air of a man inspecting cloth or merchandise. There was absolutely no hint of personal interest in his eyes. In fact, she mused to herself, he seemed to eye _Chakotay_ with a heck of a lot more intensity than he spared for…

Oh, _hell_. The realization struck her head-on as Enlin nodded curtly to Enahr, mumbling, "I suppose you're correct. The texture _is_ superb." He shot her another look as she swallowed hard, attempting to digest the shocking conclusion her horrified brain had just reached.

She dismissed Enlin's words, automatically seeking out Chakotay's eyes from where she stood, held still by Enahr's casually held disruptor and the threat the weapon's presence implied. From the look of hardly contained concern her first officer returned, she knew he hadn't yet caught on to the situation; he was still worried about _her_, of course.

_He really is ridiculous, _her mind acknowledged absently, mostly out of habit.

She was torn. She knew that Enahr was likely to be friendlier to _her_ than he would be to Chakotay. And, conversely, she had to hope that Enlin's apparent interest in Chakotay…the thought made her vaguely ill, though she hadn't the time to address it…would at least keep her first officer from coming to significant physical harm. For long enough to realize what she might have to ask him to do in the near future, at least…

But what if his dissatisfaction with Chakotay's answers (he knew his duty, he wouldn't betray Voyager) caused that interest to manifest itself in a less-than-benevolent fashion? She felt a tiny shudder course through her. There was little choice, if they wanted to come out of this situation unharmed. She'd have to make full use of what few advantages they had. And if that included sending her first officer into the veritable lion's den in the hopes that he'd have more sway over their captor than she would, then she'd just have to trust Chakotay to be able to take care of himself.

And so, though she'd been more than prepared to assert her position and demand to be the individual chosen for "questioning", she was forced to concede the issue for sheer practicality's sake. She hated it, but it was the tactically correct move and she knew it. "I'm sorry, Commander," she called sweetly, but loudly enough to draw the attention of all three men. She waited until all eyes were fixed upon her before shooting her first officer a pointed look she hoped he'd catch. Then, making a show of lowering her eyes to the ground, she continued, "In future, I'll make more of an effort to…behave."

If she'd almost choked on that last word, Chakotay nearly suffocated swallowing his tongue upon hearing it. And if he wasn't so used to following her lead, he might easily have given away the ruse with an exaggerated shock reaction. As it was, he afforded himself one thick swallow before his features morphed into the appropriately stern glare. "See that you do," he ordered tersely, staring hard and simultaneously wondering who the hell this woman was and what she had done with his captain.

He simply hoped she had a plan…and one that DIDN'T involve becoming overly friendly with the alien called Enahr, who was, oddly, the only one of the two aliens eyeing her with anything like distrust at the moment.

Enlin, for his part, removed his disruptor from his wide, tethered belt and pointed it at Chakotay with a lopsided little grin. "Thought so," he drawled smugly. "This way, Commander," he gestured toward the exit with his weapon. "Cooperate, and I'll have you back with your…_woman_…in no time."

Chakotay moved hesitantly to the door, unwilling to leave Kathryn on her own with Enahr but knowing he didn't really have a choice in the matter.

"Stow her with the other two. And that 'hands-off' order still applies, Enahr," Enlin called over his shoulder, once he'd keyed in the release for the door, ushering his prisoner out of the room. "Unless, of course, the commander should fail to satisfy me with his responses to my questions."

Chakotay shot the slyly-grinning alien – hell, _both_ of them – a dark look of venom.

Though he should be pleased overall, he thought. Kathryn would stay behind, and not be subjected to interrogation by the obviously more dangerous alien, and yet…as he stole one final, guarded look at her, he couldn't help feeling as though he'd missed something. Something very important…

The door shut in his face, and Enlin was guiding him down a long, dark corridor before he could give the matter any more thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer****: **see chapter one

* * *

What had just happened? Kathryn forced herself to focus her mind. Her headache had gone from throbbing agony to pounding obscenity in the span of five minutes. She'd let slip her highly inappropriate feelings for her first officer, who'd then practically attacked her by way of a response…with his mouth, no less.

With his warm, sensual, perfectly sculpted and quite talented mouth…_Stop it, Kathryn._

The moment, though satisfying, though thrilling and intensely stimulating, had done absolutely nothing to resolve any of the issues lingering between them. If anything, it had probably served to complicate matters far more in the long run.

Thanks to the revelations of only hours before, the captain now had a fair idea of just what had been behind her strange ill temperament of the past few weeks: jealousy. It galled her to know it, to have to admit it, but Kathryn Janeway was certainly not above the simple human emotion of jealousy. Not if her recent temper was any indication, at any rate.

That, she could handle. Now that she'd been made aware of it, she could watch out for it, prepare for it…guard against it.

But it had been more than that, more than the envy. There'd been something infinitely more devastating in her first officer's seemingly callous affair with the rogue Borg leader: it had _hurt_. It had hurt like hell.

Granted, the situation had been emotionally exhausting while he'd been down on that planet, and granted he'd just lost Ensign Kaplan, who had been his responsibility at the time. Of all people, she knew how that felt, what it did to one's insides…

Granted, he'd been seriously injured but…could any of that excuse such a glaringly obvious betrayal of his supposedly deep feelings for his captain? Had he sincerely developed similar feelings for the former Starfleet officer while spending that short bit of time with the woman on that planet?

She didn't think she could bear it if he had…if it was that easy for him, if he was that shallow, that fickle…if his affections could be so easily gained and lost. It didn't fit with the description of the man she thought she knew.

So had it been just about the sex, then? And if it had, did that somehow make it all right? Was it just that simple for him? A matter of physical comfort because she, Kathryn, was unable to offer what he craved? And he had had sex with the woman; this she knew from the doctor's predictably thorough report.

Unbidden, her stomach twisted treacherously at the thought, just as it had when she'd read that report initially. Her uniform jacket still bore the stain from the coffee she'd accidentally spit out upon reading those uncompromising words. At least now she knew it was hurt which had prompted the unusual loathing for the concept that he had slept with Riley. At the time, a tiny part of her had feared that it was the fact that the woman was a former Borg which had made her ill. At least she didn't have to worry that she was that closed-minded, that prejudiced after all…

But back to the question – or questions – at hand. Hadn't Chakotay stood in her office just a few short months before all of this, admittedly "bothered" by Q's attention toward her? Yes, he had. And that barely a few months after declaring his eternal devotion to her… No matter that he'd done so in obscure language and through thinly veiled references. She'd been meant to take them as the declaration of love he'd intended that little Angry Warrior speech to be. She was certain of that. Well…fairly certain…

She hardly felt the tug of Enahr's grip on her arm as he pulled her along behind him. She entered the corridor after him, hobbling unsteadily on her good leg and trying to favor the injured ankle as much as possible. It hadn't hurt so much while lying or standing, but walking had become a special agony…

Shaking her head clear of everything but her surroundings, she carefully surveyed the long, dim corridor, trying to memorize the route she was being escorted along…

"I don't suppose it will do any good to ask where you're taking me?" she quipped dryly.

"You'll see soon enough," he responded cryptically. Infuriatingly.

For her part, Kathryn opted not to resist. It wouldn't do her or, more importantly, her first officer any good to cause trouble now, not while they were separated… She caught herself wondering ruefully just how long it would take him to realize the situation and why she'd had such an uncharacteristic change of heart about who would be subject to Enlin's interrogation. Amazingly, she decided that she wasn't looking forward to facing him when he did – assuming he made it through the interrogation in one piece, of course…

She shivered inwardly despite the stifling heat. He WOULD make it through. He had to. They'd been in far worse situations before and they'd managed thus far…

An hour, she decided. She would give him one hour. If he didn't show after that, she would have to wrangle his location out of Enahr and rescue him. And she would do so by any means possible, if necessary…even if she had to forcefully pry it out of the sneering idiot's mouth one syllable at a time. The image brought a tiny smile to her lips.

They'd hardly gone more than a few meters when the stocky, black-skinned alien was ushering her inside a steel door, pushing her into the room ahead of him and interrupting her careful study. For a moment, she allowed herself to know a tiny trickle of fear. The room was dark – pitch black, actually. And Janeway knew from years of experience that only bad things usually happened in the dark…

"Lights," Enahr called, and she breathed an imperceptible sigh of relief as she looked around her. The room was tiny compared to the storage unit in which she and Chakotay had been held. It was filled with medical equipment. Instantly, she scanned the trays and shelves of medical devices for something, anything which could potentially be used as a weapon…

"Up there, honey," he grunted, interrupting her train of thought again and indicating the solitary bunk centered in the middle of the room. When she gave him only a mutinous glare for an answer, he smiled thinly. "Unless you'd like help?" His eyes slid over her in that seedy way, overly obvious in his appraisal. "I'm sure I could manage to give you a hand…or two."

She raised an eyebrow at him, showing her disdain. His species was unlike any they'd encountered before. They were clearly humanoid, but with odd black, wrinkled skin that gave them a rather sinister appearance. And apart from their tracking skills, she wasn't entirely convinced of their intelligence…

Not knowing how far she should push Enahr's loyalty to his leader, though, Kathryn tossed him a contemptuous glance and awkwardly managed to shift herself onto the biobed. With her arms still restrained behind her, it was a difficult feat. Using her good leg to brace herself, she hopped up onto the bunk and set herself into the most defensive posture possible.

"Why have you brought me here? Where would the commander have been taken?" she demanded, fixing the alien with her best glare. "And I thought your orders were to take me to the others…"

Enahr burst out laughing, drawing an even more deathly glare from the Starfleet captain. As the room was so small, hardly larger than her closet, he was close enough to lean forward and give her a proprietary pat on the cheek. "I thought you promised to behave, Captain?"

She hissed at him, snatching her head back and away from his hand, which only had him chuckling again. Leaning in close to her, to her horror, he brought his thin mouth (which did not boast any lips that she could determine) to her ear and whispered, "You may have fooled Enlin, but that's only because he isn't as fond of you as I am. You and I both know that _you're_ the one in charge on that mysterious ship of yours, don't we?"

She stiffened, her mind racing, turning and staring at him with all the focus her throbbing head could muster. He drew back and gazed almost fondly into her eyes, his own yellow cat's eyes twinkling with amusement as he did so.

So Enahr wasn't so daft after all. _Interesting_, she thought, her blue eyes surveying him with just a tiny bit of admiration. He either played stupid for her benefit or, as she was beginning to suspect, for Enlin's…

In a normal volume, Enahr boasted, "Your commander is being taken care of. If he answers Enlin's questions satisfactorily, he'll be just fine, honey. As to why _you're_ here, I thought I'd take a look at that leg you're limping on. Looks somewhat painful. And after that, we can begin working on those enhancements. They'll take some time to complete, and we only have two weeks to get you ready for the market."

So it was for Enlin's benefit then, Kathryn decided. They were most likely being monitored, just as she and Chakotay had been monitored in that cargo hold while they …

Oh, no. She wasn't touching that one again…not until she'd first ensured that there was no opportunity for escape that was being overlooked in this tiny room.

Enahr turned away from her, but only enough to search the highest shelf for the correct piece of equipment. She watched him carefully, one eye on him and the equipment he rifled through, and the other scanning over the shelves within her reach. If she could only find something that might be used as a weapon…he continued to talk as he searched through the shelves. "Of course if your commander ISN'T cooperative, that would mean a great deal more fun for me." He tossed a lecherous glance over his shoulder, making her lament the fact that she was still clad only in her rather poorly adjusted undergarments.

But he'd already turned his attention back to the shelf. "Now where could that evaluator be? Nope, that's not it." He tossed something haphazardly back on the shelf, startling her with the commotion he was making. "Incidentally, honey, you should really work on that temper of yours. If someone DOES buy you, you can bet your skinny little behind he won't be quite so forgiving as we are with…ah. There."

He turned back to her and she shifted casually (she hoped) to her left, concealing the shelf she'd been eyeing from his gaze. Kathryn's eyes widened innocently as the alien's suspicious gaze followed her movements. "What were you doing just now?" he demanded, looking over her shoulder as he took the single step forward bringing him to the side of the bed she rested upon.

"Nothing." She turned her most brilliant smile on him, shrugging one shoulder lightly. "Just having a look around. Can't blame a girl for being curious, can you?"

He glanced down at her, relaxing into her change of attitude – somewhat. "I suppose not." He returned her smile, nudging closer to her. "Just don't get any bright ideas, understand?"

Janeway beamed back at him, and did her best to keep from vomiting all over him. Her face was the very picture of innocence.

"I wouldn't dream of it, Mr. Enahr," she replied with ease.

_Damn her_.

Chakotay sat stiffly in his "seat". The chair had obviously been crafted for one of Enlin's species, and as such, it was a bit too low and long for him to recline in comfortably; the aliens had abnormally long thighs by human standards.

_Damn her to hell._ He was going to kill her. He was going to…

"One more time, then, Commander, for the record's sake," Enlin drawled dangerously from behind him.

The alien stood far too close for Chakotay's liking. Thus far, he had done his best to maintain his cool, and not to give anything away while appearing to cooperate. With Kathryn (and potentially Tom and Harry) elsewhere on the alien ship, he didn't want to risk crossing that fine line of careful resistance into outright defiance and risk pushing the unknown alien captor over the edge…

But, oh, was he going to _kill_ her!

"What is your race called?"

"Human,' Chakotay supplied, still unable to completely exorcise the provocative vision of his captain lying on the metal grating of the deck, her hair fanned out, framing her glowing face and her lips swollen from his own vigorous attentions to them…

Still unable to fully rid himself of the feel of her warm, incredibly soft skin against his…it had felt like a dream. A hazy, delirium induced dream. But for the fact that he could still taste her, still detect the hint of the coffee that had been the last thing to pass her lips before the shuttle crash, he might have convinced himself that it WAS a dream. A dream like so many others that had haunted his nights for an agonizing year now…

Oh, but he was still going to throttle her. Nothing was going to be able to excuse the situation she'd knowingly sent him into…

"Where did you say you were from again?"

"Earth," Chakotay gritted, knowing that this much at least the captain would have told him.

"I see. And Earth is where, again?"

"The Alpha Quadrant." The repetition was growing tiresome. His arms hurt. He felt as though he was losing circulation in them entirely…all he really wanted, if he was honest with himself, was to return to her side. To strangle her. To kiss her again, to see if she would respond with the same invigorating hunger that had set his senses reeling and his heart pounding, reveling in her reaction to his touch. To entice those low, sensual sounds from the back of her throat again…

AND to strangle her, he reminded himself as the alien moved close behind him again and the commander struggled to keep his rising ardor in check. The Spirits only knew how Enlin would read his physical response to the memory of Kathryn's tongue battling with his…he shifted in his chair, furious. Yes, he was going to strangle her.

It hadn't taken long for him to realize exactly what her sudden change of heart had been about. Once removed from the distraction of her presence and relocated to what he could only assume were Enlin's personal chambers, Chakotay had been able to read Enlin's strange, close scrutiny all too clearly. It didn't exactly take a genius to read the none-too-subtle signs his captor practically radiated towards him...

The room was spacious, well-furnished, and rather dimly lit. The chair he sat in (at Enlin's "request") was supposed to be comfortable, the commander guessed, at least by the alien's standards. It was plush, upholstered, and richly so. The soft material rather matched the overall ambiance of decadence in the wall-hanging covered, ostentatiously furnished room. The decadence of his surroundings, coupled with the looks he had suddenly become much more aware of from the dark alien, had served to enlighten the commander rather quickly…

"And…how many of you did you say there were left?" Enlin repeated, as he poured a thick, tarry-looking substance from a large, spiral-shaped bottle into two small glasses.

"Four," Chakotay repeated for the tenth time in as many minutes. He hoped he was correct in taking Enlin's previous statements to mean that Tom and Harry had indeed been captured by Enlin's men also. Assuming they had, that meant Enlin already knew of at least four humans in the Delta Quadrant. Chakotay didn't want to be caught in an outright lie just yet…

He eyed the alien's movements with apprehension, wondering if his hands were going to be released anytime in the near future, or if he was going to be expected to drink the foul concoction Enlin was sliding across the desk at him by leaning over and using only his mouth…

Enlin circled around the desk, making Chakotay fight not to tense up. The Cardassians had sometimes played this game with their prisoners, giving the impression of hospitality during initial questioning right before moving in for the kill. When Enlin reached out toward him with both hands, Chakotay had to fight twice as hard to control his reaction.

But Enlin only smiled again, snickering at the dark expression which crossed his captive's face. Leaning in close, he took hold of the chair on either side of the commander's broad, bare arms and swiveled it around so that Chakotay was more or less facing the desk instead of sitting alongside it. "Only four?" He clucked his rough tongue. "You wouldn't be lying to me, now would you, Commander?"

Chakotay swiveled his sore head, meeting the alien's shrewd gaze. Mustering his remaining energy (and a good portion of his old Starfleet training), he forced himself to remain calm. "No," he replied evenly. "What would be the point? I've already lost my ship," he reasoned coolly. "You have it, and from what I've seen so far, you've made quite a career of transporting unwilling occupants to be sold into slavery. Somehow, I doubt you've left many avenues open for escape…even if I wanted to escape."

Enlin stood up, moving slightly so that Chakotay no longer had to crane his neck around to view him. His yellow eyes darkened, and he absently reached out to snatch up his full glass with one hand, bringing it to his thin mouth. He let his eyes pass once more over his prisoner's form, swirling the thick liquid around on his tongue before swallowing. "Hmmm," he offered, reaching out to rest his drained glass on the table and picking up the remaining, full glass in its place. "What you say could be true. And I'd prefer to believe you too intelligent to lie to me, Commander. I assume you must know what will happen to you if you're lying." His grin widened dangerously, showing an expansion of double-rowed, pointed teeth. "What will happen to that woman of yours," he expanded, unnecessarily to Chakotay's way of thinking.

He kept his cool, raging inwardly all the while. "You've made that quite clear, yes."

Enlin frowned, studying his captive's face with intense scrutiny. "Well, I must say I'm disappointed in your responses." He paused, swirling the liquid around in the glass he still held. But I say we should be friends for the remainder of our journey." He raised his head to catch the commander's carefully neutral expression and grinned again. "Agreed?"

Chakotay swallowed, masking his distaste for the man before him. "Agreed," he nodded stiffly, picturing Kathryn's pretty little throat framed by both of his own hands…

"Here…try this. Netara nectar, from our homeworld. It's incredibly rare, but I think you'll like it. You look like a man of…sophisticated tastes, Chakotay…may I call you Chakotay?" Enlin inquired slyly as he leaned in, proffering the glass.

Chakotay forced a small smile. _As if I had a choice you smug son of a… _"Of course." His eyes flickered meaningfully to the glass now only millimeters from his mouth and then up to Enlin's smiling features again. "But I think you'll have to undo these restraints for me to be able to…"

"Oh no, I don't think so, Chakotay," Enlin shook his head, laughing in that odd way again that made the hair on the back of Chakotay's neck stand up. "If I did _that,_ you might try something foolish, and then I'd have no one to blame but myself when I had to punish you. I'll hold it for you while you drink it."

He maneuvered the glass up to the commander's disbelieving lips, watching with interest as the human obviously had to battle through some internal struggle for a long moment. Eventually, he appeared to resign himself to the inevitable and took a tentative sip of the dark liquid.

Enlin purred his approval.

Chakotay thought he was going to be ill, and not from the drink – the drink, surprisingly, was good. His thirst was quenched almost immediately, and he wasn't even sure how something of such a thick consistency could do that, but it had…it had tasted almost like licorice, but not as heavy and slightly more tangy, with a hint of…yes, that had been an almost citrusy aftertaste, he decided. He took another small sip from the glass to avoid meeting the alien's too-interested gaze.

"What did you think?" Enlin demanded, straightening and placing the glass on the desk, much to Chakotay's relief. "Was it to your liking?"

Chakotay nodded genuinely. "Yes," he responded politely, carefully. "It's very good, thank you."

For whatever reason, this seemed to satisfy his "host". Enlin nodded approvingly, sliding his eyes over the length of his prisoner before turning to replace the half-full bottle to its resting place on the shelf. "I'll have you taken to the others now. You'll be cleaned up and allowed to rest. We'll have another chat in a few days or so, Chakotay." He smiled again, leaning over the desk to tap something into one of the controls set into the paneling of the desktop. "Until then, please _do_ enjoy your stay with us."

The door to Enlin's chambers opened, admitting two of the aliens that Chakotay hadn't seen before. Armed with disruptors identical to those that had been used on him and Kathryn earlier, they silently gestured for the commander to rise. He did so swiftly, not needing to be told twice; he was only too glad to escape the thick tension in the too-warm room and Enlin's rapacious gaze.

Silently, he obeyed the nudging directions of the dark aliens down the mostly deserted corridor while carefully committing the winding route to memory…

Oh yes, he thought darkly as he did so…he was going to _throttle_ her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer****: **See chapter one.

**Notes****: **A hearty thanks to splv for the look through and suggestions in the last section ;)

* * *

Chakotay followed his guards, not even deeming it worthwhile to ask them any questions. The return trip took longer, though he thought he recognized a few of the corridors from his initial journey to Enlin's rooms…he wondered if the guards were taking him on a circuitous route on purpose, in order to limit his chances of memorizing the way. If so, they were doing a damned fine job of it, much to his annoyance…

His musings ceased as a jerk on his shoulder indicated for him to stop. He complied, but when he tried to turn around to get a look at his escort, to gauge whether or not they were sufficiently distracted, he received a sharp poke in the lower back from one of their disruptors. Gritting his teeth, Chakotay faced the doorway before him, watching the dark, wrinkled hand inputting a code into a keypad there from the corner of his eye.

He didn't know what to expect when the doors parted, but it was clear from the heavy push on his shoulders that the guards had no intention of joining him. This room, too, was overly warm, he noted, the sweat beading instantly on his forehead at the drastic change in temperature from the hallway into the new holding area…

The lighting here was even dimmer than on the rest of the alien ship. He had to strain just to see into the small room as he heard the doors clang together behind him. Taking a deep breath, he peered into the shadows looming before him and took a cautious step forward.

Enlin had said that he'd be taken to "join his friends"…that had to mean that Tom and Harry were on the vessel too, right? So they, and Kathryn, should be in here, somewhere…assuming Enhar could be trusted to obey orders. And if he couldn't and she'd been hurt in some way during his absence, Enahr was a dead man. It was just that simp…

He cursed under his breath as his shin connected smartly with the edge of something hard and solid. The pain exploded through his tibia, sharply biting, and he glanced down at the long low crate, which had been obstructing his path.

He heard a rustle of movement from somewhere in the shadows alongside him. Turning, he whispered, "Kathryn?" as he squinted into the darkened room…

He thought he recognized a flash of a pale face before him for a split second as he struggled to keep his balance…"Tom?" he tried, startled at the figure's sudden appearance and close proximity.

The eyes of the face, which shone in the dim light for an instant, widened considerably. "_Commander_? Shit, Harry, wait! It's not a guard, it's–"

The vaguely familiar voice was the last thing he heard before a blunt, heavy force struck the back of his skull. He pitched forward into something surprising soft, seeing stars exploding across his vision just before losing contact with the world entirely for the second time in less than two days.

* * *

Kathryn estimated that she'd been in the tiny room with Enahr for close to twenty minutes. In that time he'd prodded, poked, and scanned her repeatedly, clucking over her "lack of assets" and musing aloud to himself about how best to "fix" her.

She liked to consider herself not particularly hung up on vanity, but still…she had her pride. His endless taunts began to irk her, digging under her skin and making her even more short-tempered than she'd been on Voyager these past few weeks. She sat with her back ramrod straight, doing her utmost to keep control. But sitting still had ever been her strong suit…hell, hadn't her instructors warned her of this much every single day of command school?

"_Patience, Janeway,"_ they'd repeatedly cautioned her. _"You __**must**__ learn patience. Sometimes not doing is the best course of action…"_

And over the years, she'd come to amass quite a bit of the precious commodity. She could sit for hours on end, smiling engagingly through one diplomatic meeting after another…could do it for hours, if she had to. But with three of her people potentially in danger, all she wanted to do was to get a nice, firm grip on Enahr's thick neck and throttle the location of her officers from his seedy, smiling face….

Her ankle was not entirely healed, but he'd addressed most of the swelling there, much to her relief. That he wasn't completely incompetent came as something of a mildly pleasant surprise to her…until she'd averted her attention to scanning the shelves once too often while his back was turned.

"Here you are, honey. Something to relax you a bit for this next procedure…"

She'd seen the hypospray far too late. She tried to shift to the side and out of his reach, but within the tiny, closet-like room, it was next to impossible on such short notice. His fingers dug into her jaw, holding her head still, and the hiss of the release valve registered like a blow to her heightened senses…

Immediately, a wave of drowsiness overcame her, sapping her of her considerable ire in no time.

"Bastard," she managed almost conversationally as her eyelids drifted shut, drawn together under the sleepy wave of warmth suffusing her body. Her limbs felt uncomfortably heavy. Simply remaining upright was costing precious energy – energy she was rapidly losing.

_So much for rescuing Chakotay, _she thought with something akin to mild alarm. It was all she could seem to muster. By now, he should be aware of her reasons for sending him with Enlin and for her remaining behind with Enahr… And at the thought of him seeing this or learning what she'd just allowed to happen to herself through her negligence, Janeway felt the strange urge to laugh. Oh, was he going to be angry.

_He's going to kill me, _she thought vaguely – rather unimportantly, considering the circumstances. She frowned in confusion at the direction her increasingly muddled thoughts were taking…

Kathryn felt her muscles slacken and then strong hands supporting her as she slumped backwards, unconscious.

Enahr's ever-present grin was the last thing she saw before the darkness claimed her.

* * *

Tom Paris circled the still form of Commander Chakotay, staring down at the fallen figure below him. He let out a low whistle, bending to inspect the thick, swelling knot forming on the back of the commander's skull. "Nice one, Harry. Way to go. _This_ ought to have you earning that promotion in no time."

Harry Kim reddened, his annoyance with Tom's "humor" rapidly escalating. "Thanks, Tom. How was I supposed to know it was him, and not one of the guards? We've been here for over a week already with no sign from Voyager…and if I recall correctly, this was _your_ plan, not mine!"

Tom shrugged pitilessly, feeling around for Chakotay's pulse with expert fingers. "You could have at least _looked_ before you swung…hell, a couple of centimeters further and that would have been my face!"

Harry eyed the metal bar on the floor lying where he'd haphazardly tossed it. Thankfully, there didn't appear to be any blood on it. He ran a shaky hand through his hair, distraught at the thought of the first officer having been gravely injured in a place where they couldn't be sure of receiving medical attention. "Will he be okay?"

Tom raised his eyes from the commander's head. "I think so. There's a nice lump where you hit him, and he'll have one hell of a headache when he wakes up, but I don't think there'll be a concussion. Hard to tell without a tricorder, though. Help me drag him back against the wall, will you?"

Harry stared. "Are you sure it's safe to move him?"

The pilot rolled his eyes. "You're thinking of a neck or back injury. I've got his arms; see if you can get his legs."

Together, the two men worked to move the commander over to the far wall, where Harry and Tom had taken to spending most of their time. It took a few moments for Tom to be satisfied with Chakotay's position, but finally he announced, "That's good enough. He should be comfortable for now...though there's nothing I can do for that headache when he comes to, so it's probably best to let him sleep it off. For the moment, anyway."

Harry sat back against the wall, dropping his head against it. Closing his eyes, he sighed heavily. "So much for escape," he muttered dejectedly, his high hopes from scant moments before now lying, dashed, before him. Cracking open an eyelid, he allowed his gaze to sweep over Chakotay's still form with a grimace. "Or rescue, apparently," he added, noting the first officer's state of undress. "Looks like the commander ran into the same trouble we did."

"Looks like it," Paris agreed, moving to reclaim the make-shift weapon his companion had discarded earlier. "However 'natively inclined' Chakotay may be, I can't exactly see the captain letting him mount a rescue mission in his underwear." Returning to the wall, he slid his left hand carefully over a shelf set into the bulkhead, feeling for the small space between them… Finding it, he deftly slipped the bar into its hiding place before moving to imitate Harry and taking a seat on the floor.

Kim grimaced. "If she was in a foul mood before we left, she's going to be furious now," he groaned, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

Tom snorted humorlessly. "Yeah, well…you're looking at the reason for Her Majesty's ill humor as we speak." He was eyeing Chakotay with something like disdain, much to Harry's surprise. "On second thought," Paris continued darkly, "he _deserved_ that blow. Maybe we'll get lucky, and it will have knocked some sense into him."

"Tom!" Harry chastised disbelievingly. "You don't mean that. It's not his fault the captain's been…er…well, a little testy."

Paris snickered. "'Testy'?" He raised an insolent brow. "Come off it, Harry. She's been a raving bitch for weeks now. Not that you can really blame her for it," he added, dropping his head back against the wall and ignoring Harry's scandalized expression.

"What are you talking about, Tom?"

The helmsman shook his head wearily. "Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything in the first place. Get some sleep, will you? You know you're going to need it more than I am. I'll keep an ear out for the guards."

Harry peered at him through the darkness, annoyed and incredulous. "Our escape plan fails miserably. Our rescuer is lying on the floor with a possible concussion, and all you can say is 'get some sleep'?"

Tom shrugged, not even deeming fit to open his eyes again. "You got any better ideas? If so, I'm listening. Otherwise, it's a safe bet that they're going to work you to death again tomorrow. So if I were you, I'd try to get some shut eye while I could."

After a week of constant, forced exercise and near starvation in captivity, Harry's patience was finally wearing too thin to maintain his generally cheery aura of good will. To make matters worse, Tom's sarcasm, mildly entertaining in the best of situations, lately served to grate on Kim's already-worn nerves. "I don't _want_ to sleep, Tom. And stop telling me what to do."

"I do outrank you," Tom reminded him stonily.

"You're threatening to pull rank now? It must be something good. And you know I'm persistent when I set my mind to something. So, are you going to keep dropping your dark hints all night, or will you just tell me what you meant about the commander and the captain?"

Tom, in not much better spirits himself, rolled his eyes disgustedly into the dimness. However dismal their situation seemed to be, he didn't think breaking his superior officer's medical confidentiality was quite warranted…yet. "I have a better question for you, Harry," he evaded skillfully. "What do you think happened to the other member of Chakotay's away team?"

Kim froze. Tom was right. Chakotay wouldn't have come alone. It was against Starfleet protocol to send an away mission comprised of only a single crew member, and the captain was a stickler for that one, too. He swallowed thickly. "There's…always the chance that whoever it was managed to avoid capture." He sat up a little straighter against the wall. "He or she could be mounting a rescue as we speak."

"Or they could be dead, or lying severely injured somewhere."

Harry frowned. "You don't always have to be so dismal, you know. You're such a pessimist."

"How many times do I have to tell you – I'm not a pessimist, Harry, I'm a–"

"Realist, yeah I know, you've told me," Harry groaned, finishing the familiar sentence before the pilot had a chance. "About a hundred times already."

"And yet you keep setting me up for it."

"So…who do you think it was..._is_," Harry corrected himself, annoyed at how easily Tom's "realism" had sunk in.

"Dunno. Ayala, Andrews, Rollins..." He smiled wanly. "I know I'd happily kiss the first one of them to come bursting through that door right about now – even Tuvok," the helmsman snorted. "I've had about as much of this place as I can take."

"At least they feed _you_," Harry muttered. "I haven't had a decent meal since we've been here."

"Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to call it 'decent'." Tom shuddered. "The stuff they've been forcing on me is enough to make me miss Neelix's cooking." He leveled a pointed look at his companion. "And it's not as though they're starving you, exactly. In fact, that bread they've been giving you looks a hell of a lot more appetizing than the slop they've been shoveling down _my_ throat." He shuddered again, trying to quell his queasy stomach, still nauseous from trying to digest his latest "feeding". The fatty, gelatinous substance roiled unpleasantly in his stomach and he grimaced, careful not to move even a little. It always took a while for his stomach to begin rebelling against the alien food, but when it did… "I honestly think it's just raw animal fat or something."

Harry kept quiet. He'd had the benefit of sighting one of Tom's "meals". And though he complained, he knew he'd rather starve than be forced to eat the vile-looking concoctions his friend was suffering through on a daily basis. "If it helps," he added quietly, "I think you might've gained a few pounds. Maybe they'll stop making you eat it soon."

Tom closed his eyes tightly. "Let's hope so. In the meantime, if you're not going to sleep, that surveillance loop has to be updated. You're going to have to set it to record again, before they peek in here and realize what we've done. I think it'll be fairly obvious if Chakotay doesn't show on the image at all."

Harry slapped a palm to his forehead. "Damn. You're right. There are three of us now. They're sure to notice if only the two of us appear on the surveillance loop." He glanced over at Tom, who even in the dim light had gone rather pale again. Used to it by now, he knew the best way to help him was to keep quiet and let his friend suffer in relative silence. Forcing him to maintain idle conversation did little to distract him from the nausea anyway. "I'll get right on it."

When Tom didn't respond, Harry didn't press him.

* * *

Enahr slipped from the tiny medical room, cradling a limp form in his arms and whistling an off-key tune. He shifted the still figure, freeing a hand to seal the door behind him before taking a moment to study his handiwork. He smiled to himself; Enlin would be pleased. For a first procedure, he'd done amazing work.

She should be angry enough when she awoke to discover his "enhancements". He smiled even more broadly, picturing her reaction. She had quite a temper; that was for certain! Chuckling to himself, Enahr set off down the hall to deposit her with her companions.

These creatures amused him in a way few others had before. Well…that wasn't precisely accurate: _she_ amused him. The others weren't particularly remarkable in any way that he had been able to discern. He thought he was going to miss her when they finally arrived at the auction. Enahr genuinely found himself enjoying her company, and their sparring stimulated his brain in ways he'd missed while playing the simple fool all these years…

Waiting for an opportunity to dispose of Enlin so that he could take over the lucrative slave operation in his absence had been a wise career move, but it had its drawbacks. He was sorely lacking in entertainment. Enlin was inherently vain, occasionally cruel, and fundamentally weak. It was a good thing, having been used to Enahr's complete advantage in establishing himself as second man. But often, it was difficult to bear in stoic silence. Enlin could be insufferable at the best of times, and downright dangerous at the worst of them…

He was concerned for the woman. He knew he shouldn't bother over her, but he'd seen Enlin's reaction to being denied something he wanted…and Enlin clearly wanted Janeway's commander. Enahr thought he had an accurate enough read on the alien by now, and he was certain Enlin's attention would not be welcomed by the man. He only hoped the creature had enough sense not to openly refuse his captor; doing so was likely to get the woman killed out of pure spite. And there would be little that Enahr could do on her behalf in that event…Enlin was just as likely to turn on one of his own men if sufficiently challenged. He knew that from experience…

She stirred in his arms. He smiled again, slowing his pace a little, trying not to jostle her too much. She'd be sore for the next few days, at least…

It didn't take her long. He felt her stiffen suddenly and had to shift her weight, which had gone tense as she'd regained awareness of her surroundings. He waited for it, grinning widely now…

"What the…" Kathryn's words were slightly slurred but clear enough. She pushed against him, almost making him drop her on the deck.

"Hey! Take it easy, honey," he drawled, staggering as he fought to keep a hold of her. "If I drop you on this hard grating, it's going to hurt."

"What did you give me?" she demanded, her voice becoming clearer as the sedative faded from her system. She immediately struggled to sit up, despite his warning. "Where are we? Put me do– what the _hell?_"

Enahr burst out laughing. He couldn't help it; her stricken expression as her gaze caught on her own chest was too amusing to ignore. The expected look of outrage that closely followed her shock only served to make matters worse. He laughed until his insides hurt. Eventually, he staggered backwards to lean against the wall and had to set her down on the ground before he dropped her anyway. One arm clutching his belly, he indulged in another long, hearty chuckle as he watched her struggle to rise to her feet.

"You can't be _serious_..." she was muttering, staring at herself and looking aghast as she had to force her shoulders back."I can't even stand straight!" she accused, clearly less than amused by this turn of events.

In fact, the captain was incensed, which she had good reason for: she'd awoken from an enforced slumber to find her body altered significantly – and rather personally, not to mention without her permission. To be clear, her chest was easily three times larger than its normal size. The "enhancements" hurt like hell, too. Her breasts had never been meant to swell to these proportions, and even if some hormonal change had ever sparked such a change naturally, it would have happened over time, giving her body much-needed opportunity to adapt to the increasing size. These…_absurd_ alterations…had been manipulated in less than an hour, if she wasn't mistaken. Her skin hadn't had a chance to stretch to accommodate the extra girth, and as a result felt tight and pushed to its limits. But even that was nothing compared to the feel of the swollen tissue beneath…there was already heavy bruising evident over the top of her now hilariously too-small bra.

To add insult to injury, it was downright ridiculous looking. No one in his right mind (taking in her other proportions) could possibly believe this was natural! There was no way they'd be fooling anyone…!

She sucked in a deep breath (which hurt like the dickens), trying desperately to keep her cool and only half succeeding at it. That he hadn't stopped laughing as he watched her try to regain her composure only heaped more fuel onto the considerable fire of her anger.

Kathryn straightened to her full height. Ignoring the resulting twinge across her chest, she then fixed him with perhaps the most deathly look anyone in the history of the Janeway glare had ever received. "Reverse it," she ordered dangerously. "_Now_."

Enahr only eyed her appreciatively, his twinkling yellow eyes flashing at her. "Oh, I don't think so, honey. They're easily the best work I've done in ages." He laughed again at her disbelieving expression, propelling himself forward from the wall and taking her arm in a surprisingly firm grip before she moved to dodge him. She did, however, effectively bat his other hand away when it crept too far over the top of her shoulder as he easily spun her around to face the empty corridor in front of them.

Kathryn tensed as she felt her arms pulled behind her, and not just from the discomfort it caused her swollen chest. Remembering Chakotay's precarious situation, she had to forcefully quell the instinct to ram her bare foot straight back into what she assumed would be Enahr's most sensitive area. Instead she stilled, forcing herself to relax as the familiar restraints were slipped back over her wrists and secured there.

"Only a temporary measure," he assured her loudly…much more loudly than necessary, she thought. "I'll remove them as soon as we reach our destination, but I'm not taking any chances with that glorious temper of yours right now." His laughter grated on her nerves like little she could ever remember having done so before. Before Chakotay, that was: _he_ certainly seemed to have a talent for getting under her skin lately, now that she thought about it…and in more ways than one…

"Where are we going?" she demanded coldly, mostly to distract herself from the dangerous path her thoughts were taking; she blamed the sedative for her wandering thoughts, she decided.

"I'm going to let you join your friends now."

_Well good_, she thought to herself. At least she would be able to see if Tom and Harry were all right.

"And don't worry," Enahr continued, "I've been told your commander's already been placed in your holding cell." Punctuating his remarks with a surprisingly gentle nudge, the alien began ushering her forward.

Relief suffused her at the reassurance that Chakotay was still alive, but only briefly. At the mention of her crew members, Kathryn had paled considerably, very nearly stumbling as he marched her down the deserted, narrow hall.

Hell, he couldn't be serious! Not only was she in her underwear_, _but now she was going to be thrown into a tiny cell with Chakotay, Harry, and Tom looking like…_this_? Impossible! If she _breathed_ too deeply (not likely, considering how much the alterations hurt when she was still) it wouldn't be hard to fall out of the scant garment completely.

Her entire body flushing a pure shade of scarlet, Kathryn Janeway was at a loss for words as she allowed herself to be marched silently down the hall, feeling like she was being led to her execution.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer**: See chapter one please.

* * *

Ensign Kim peered warily over from his spot by the far wall as the doors opened and someone was shoved inside...

"In you go. Don't be shy, honey. They're going to love what we've done with you," the familiar voice of the alien called Enahr drawled from the doorway. "I'm sure they'll find it a great improvement."

Janeway hobbled into the darkened room, barely managing to hold herself upright. She turned to toss her tormentor a scathing look, but refused to dignify his taunts with a verbal response.

Enahr only grinned at her glare, snidely clucking his forked tongue behind his teeth. "We're really going to have to work on that temper of yours." He abruptly sobered to adopt a slightly more dangerous, less playful tone. "Here are the rules. You aren't chained while in your cell. But rest assured, you are monitored quite closely. A perimeter field surrounds every opening, including the ventilation systems. One jolt from that field is instantaneously lethal, as we've already demonstrated for your friends." He grinned. "You can ask them all about it while you're in here catching up. Lastly, any trouble from one of you results in punishment for all of you." He grinned again, the light from the corridor behind him making his already dark features nearly impossible to see. "And punishment is never pleasant. We've never had to discipline anyone twice. So be good, do as you're told, and all of you might just make it to market in one piece."

And then he allowed the doors to slide shut behind her with a solid bang.

With the light from the hallway gone, Janeway's eyes took some time in getting used to the darkness. Rather than venture forward along a path she couldn't see, the captain stood still, allowing her eyes time to adjust to the lighting (or lack thereof).

The first thing she noticed was the smell. It was horrible – truly cringe-worthy, she thought to herself, wrinkling her sensitive nose in disgust. The odor assaulting her nostrils reeked of sweat and filth and unwashed… Yes, the scent was distinctly human. Male. She couldn't remember Chakotay having smelled this bad an hour ago…and she thought she would have noticed, especially as he'd been on top of her with his tongue practically down her throat…hardly conduct befitting of Voyager's commanding officers.

She coughed quietly, shaking her head clear of unproductive thoughts. "Chakotay?" she called quietly into the space before her. "Tom? Harry?"

"_Captain_?" Harry was on his feet in an instant, moving deftly through the room toward the sound of her voice. As she hadn't spoken before and the light from the hallway had been blinding for a moment, he hadn't been able to identify the newest occupant of their cell – until he'd heard that distinctive voice calling out into the darkness, that was… "Hold on, Captain. It's tricky maneuvering until your eyes get used to the darkness."

Relief washed over her, so strong and reassuring that the pain in her chest and the lingering discomfort of her sore ankle were momentarily forgotten. The captain's eyes were adjusting somewhat by the time she was able to detect his movement just in front of her. She didn't bother restraining her enthusiasm, reaching out to grasp for the young man's shoulder. Finding it, she gave him a reassuring squeeze, and then cupped his warm cheek in the same palm. He was definitely alive.

"All right, Ensign?" Janeway finally managed in an even tone.

Harry knew he shouldn't be relieved; if the captain was in this cell, it meant she'd been taken prisoner also. But he couldn't help the broad grin from stretching his features as he felt the reassuring weight of her small hand on his face. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, taking her hand from his face and giving it a gentle squeeze to let her know he was happy to see her, too. "If it's all right with you, I can lead you over to the others."

"Of course." Janeway allowed her crewman to guide her somewhat haltingly through the dim room, obligingly shifting when he shifted and following his footsteps as agilely as she could. By now, she could make out the outlines of the few scattered objects in the room. Most of them looked like worn crates, very much like those she'd stumbled over in the warehouse on the planet. "Tom's here, too?"

"Captain?" The voice of her helmsman answered the question for her as Harry led her over to a clear space against the wall. "Is that you?"

"In the flesh," she couldn't help quipping dryly. There was no question that she was grateful for the lack of illumination in their holding cell. "Are you all right, Lieutenant?"

Tom was just sitting up, having been roused from his light slumber at the sound of familiar voices. He was tempted to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't still dreaming. "Um…yeah, I'm…we're fine, Captain," he managed, still groggy. Then he remembered. "Uh…that is…Harry and I. Chakotay on the other hand…"

"What's wrong with him?" Janeway demanded instantly. "Where is he?"

Her heart was skipping beats. Enahr had assured her Chakotay hadn't been harmed. Had the alien lied? She searched the darkness intently. By now, she could make out enough of her surroundings to see that he was lying on the floor, stretched out at her feet. Immediately, she was crouching down by his side, painfully bumping heads with Tom in the process. She ignored the stars inside her skull, brushing off Paris's muffled apology without a thought. Her hands found Chakotay's head, feeling around to his neck for a pulse. "They've hurt him," she exclaimed furiously, more to herself than to the others.

Janeway's stomach was doing awful flip flops. The guilt was practically suffocating her. Her instincts had been wrong. She shouldn't have let him go off with Enlin alone; Chakotay had been unable to handle it after all. Now he had been hurt in her place, and it was no one's fault but hers…

"Actually, Captain, that was us."

Harry's plaintive voice cut through her busy thoughts like a knife, and she glanced up sharply into the shadowed plains of his face. "I beg your pardon?"

_Ah, there she is_, Tom sighed inwardly to himself. _That's the captain we know and love lately_. Her tone could only be described as dangerous. Paris thought he could practically feel the glare narrowing in on them. He hastily spoke up on Harry's behalf, not even sure why he was bothering, really. But he wasn't one to abandon a friend to the wolves, he supposed… Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a whisper, mindful of the surveillance equipment monitoring them again. "It's just a bump, Captain. Nothing too serious from what I can tell."

"Explain."

It wasn't a request.

"Well, you see, Captain," Harry stammered nervously, also whispering, "we were expecting a guard to come through the door. They usually check up on us about the time the commander was brought in. We were going to try to escape, and I er…had a metal bar I managed to pry loose from one of the exercise machines during a session, and…"

The captain groaned softly, holding up a hand they couldn't see clearly and then wincing at the pain shooting through her tender chest. "I get the picture." She was somewhat relieved to learn she hadn't misjudged the situation with Enlin after all as her other hand cautiously came up to massage her sore tissue. At the exploratory motion of her fingers, another pain shot through her, and she hissed in a sharp breath.

Tom's voice was all concern now. "What's wrong, Captain?" he inquired into the darkness, leaning closer to her. "Are you hurt?"

_Damn_, he thought. After the way he and Harry had been questioned by Enlin when they'd been taken prisoner, he probably should have guessed immediately that the captain would be interrogated also. His voice turned hard. "What'd they do to you?"

Absurdly, Janeway had to bite back on the laughter threatening to escape from her lips. How to answer that one? Somehow, telling him she was practically guaranteed a successful career as a Dabo girl if Starfleet booted her out when they got back home just didn't seem appropriate… Self-consciously, she crossed an arm over her chest, hoping to shield her altered figure from the concerned gazes of her crewmen. "I'm fine, Tom," she finally responded. "Just a little sore from the shuttle crash. It's nothing."

"That didn't sound like nothing," Paris was insisting, leaning even closer. "You should let me take a look…" His warm hand touched her shoulder, and she scooted away from him.

"That's quite enough, Lieutenant," she barked. "I said I'm fine!"

There were times when Tom wondered if the captain took lessons from B'Elanna on how to infuriate him, or if it was the other way around. He had yet to come up with a satisfactory answer to that one… Gritting his teeth, he leaned his back up against the wall, throwing his hands up in a universal sign of surrender. "Yes, ma'am," he retorted crisply. A little too crisply for the captain's taste probably, but there was little she could do about it as he hadn't been outright insubordinate. He took a perverse comfort in that fact. "Whatever you say," he mumbled.

Janeway was relieved to have the subject dropped. When she thought about it, she knew there was absolutely no reason to be so ashamed of her "enhancements". It wasn't as if she'd been given a choice – and they were all professional adults. Surely these three members of her senior staff could be trusted to handle the situation with understanding and with maturity…

Dismissing the thoughts from her mind, the captain absently touched her fingers to Chakotay's temple, where she could by now just make out the darker lines of ink framing the outside corner of his eye. "You know we're being monitored," she murmured quietly.

"Yeah." Tom shifted in closer, under the pretense of adjusting his posture. "But it's not a continual surveillance the way they'd like us to think. The data imager is just over the door, and it's set to record in intervals."

"How do you know?"

"We tested it out."

"Tested it?" The familiar prickle of curiosity rippled through her. "How?"

"On the second day, we decided to do some hardcore testing of the perimeter field. It took the guards a good ten minutes to respond once our efforts became really obvious."

Kathryn's eyebrow arched into the darkness. "'Really obvious'? Were you checking the field for weaknesses, or specifically timing the guards' response?"

"Both, but more of the second."

Both eyebrows rose. "Whatever made you think to check for lapses in the recording device?" It certainly wasn't the first thing she'd have tried. In fact, she might never have thought of that particular possibility...

There was a moment of rather awkward silence before Harry leaned over to scratch an itch on his bare foot, effectively bringing his head closer to his three companions. "Um…Tom is, uh, somewhat familiar with prisoner control and supervision tactics…"

"Ah." Yes. He'd been in prison. Janeway found that odd now. Although she'd originally met her chief pilot in New Zealand, it had been a long while since she'd last looked at Tom Paris as a reformed convict first and as her helmsman second. To her, he was simply one of her valued and trusted officers – no more, and no less. That his experience as a convict might have one day benefitted them in _this_ particular manner had certainly never occurred to her before…

All in all, she was impressed. "Go on," she prompted, somewhat awkwardly making a show of stroking her first officer's damp, sweaty hair away from his face.

"It took a while…"

"And a few more tests," Harry added.

"But we managed to pinpoint approximately when the next cycle of recording was going to begin. Once we did that, Harry was able to creep closer to get a good look." She thought she saw a flash of white teeth, but couldn't be certain as Tom continued, "And eventually, he figured out a way to break open the imager's casing and access the circuitry."

"What did you use for tools? I have to believe they're careful about what they expose you to. They do this for a living, after all."

Harry blushed, thankful neither Tom nor the captain could see it. "Well, there's the matter of Enlin. His…" He coughed, seeming to need a minute, and Tom showed no mercy. There was no way the captain was going to let them leave out the details, he knew her too well for that.

"Enlin kind of took a…liking to Harry. A…very _special _liking, if you catch my meaning…"

"Tom," Harry groaned.

"What? She asked! I can't withhold vital information from the captain, now can I?"

Kathryn knew when Tom was enjoying himself, and now was most definitely one of those times. She could hear the laughter hidden in his innocent-sounding voice.

"So Enlin invited Harry up for a little late night 'chat' in his private suite, and Harry…being the good little Starfleet officer that he is…played his role perfectly. He was very diplomatic, weren't you Har?"

"Tom!" Kim's voice took on a warning tone.

"So when Enlin leaned in for a little lesson in...shall we say...first contact, Harry pretended to…"

She couldn't, in good conscience, let Harry suffer humiliation at Tom's depraved hands any longer. "Thank you, Lieutenant; you've made your point." Unfortunately for Harry, though, Tom's little report raised a whole new set of questions. She needed to know a few more things. Shifting slightly to relieve the pressure on her ankle, she leaned back against the wall and closer to her Operations officer, whispering in a tone so low she hoped Paris wouldn't overhear, "He didn't hurt you? Or coerce you into anything you didn't want to…"

"No! Tom's exaggerating! It wasn't that bad. I get the impression Enlin likes to intimidate. And, well…I'd say his preferences are clearly male – and he was interested, but he didn't press himself or anything…"

"All right," she acquiesced, grateful that nothing untoward had befallen the young man. A tightness in her chest released a little at the knowledge that he hadn't been harmed significantly. And any tightness released in her chest, imaginary or otherwise, was pretty damned welcome right now, she thought.

There was a moment of decidedly uncomfortable silence in which Tom did his best not to snicker aloud. Not that he was completely insensitive to the subject or topic, but he had a pretty decent read on Enlin. He'd been worried at first, but now he that no longer feared for his best friend's honor or virtue, Tom felt it was his duty to tease him over it.

After all, what were friends for?

"I managed to grab an eating utensil while he was…er…leaning closer," Harry whispered.

Her ears perked up. "Knife or fork? Or something unique to their culture?"

"Fork," he replied softly.

She considered. "Metal or ceramic?"

"Metal."

She pictured stopping Enahr's groping hands with a prod of pointed metal instead of simply swatting his hand away next time…and found she liked the idea. "Good work," she nodded.

Patting Chakotay's rhythmically moving chest with satisfaction, she shifted herself along the hard floor so she could lie down beside him. "The Flyer?"

"Damaged, but here. Nothing we can't repair, but Enlin's people won't have any luck accessing the computer in the meantime, either. Not unless they have someone with B'Elanna's encrypting and decoding skill…"

Janeway nodded, satisfied. And she was grateful to have something to focus on besides the fact that Tom had moved to lie on the other side of her and that neither one of them…nor Chakotay or Harry…was wearing anything more than undergarments. She was not looking forward to the coming "daylight"...or whenever it was their captors decided to turn the lights back on in the room.

A warm hand brushed her bare thigh, making her gasp and start in spite of herself.

"Sorry," Tom mumbled, as the pain tore through her chest at her sudden movement, making her hiss in another sharp breath. He shifted immediately to face her. "Look, Captain, if you're injured, you really have to let me…"

"Tom," she cut him off warningly, having steadied her breathing and isolated the sensation of pain in her mind to detach more effectively until it faded. "It's nothing. A…pulled muscle. I'm sure you'll be able to take a thorough look in the morning." _A very thorough look_, she cringed. _And if you say one word_, she silently promised him, _you'll be scrubbing the hull with a toothbrush until we get home_. In that moment, tired, worried, and sore as she was, she really thought she meant it, too. "Anything else I need to know?" she directed archly in Tom's direction. "Communications haven't been a possibility, I gather? Or an escape route? Do you have any idea as to the layout of the ship?"

Tom shrugged. "No communications. The data imager is the only piece of technology we've managed to get our hands on, and so far only Harry's been out of this room."

"No luck there, Captain," Harry spoke up at her feet. "Enlin's quarters and the 'exercise room' are the only two places I've been. No luck with communications in either room, and they alter the route to both places each time, I think so I can't memorize it. We can fill you in in the morning…depending on what they feel your individual needs are for salability, tomorrow could be a rough day. You should probably get some sleep…

"I'm taking this watch," Tom added, having turned back to lie on his other side. "If that's all right with you, of course."

She considered. Surprisingly, sleep was tempting…too tempting. She was never this tired. Somehow, she doubted the sedative she'd been given had been able to completely clear from her system yet. A yawn escaped her even as she _thought_ about resting, and, seeing no immediate means of furthering their escape plans just yet, she nodded drowsily into the darkness on the heels of another yawn. "I'll take next shift. But you're to wake me the moment he stirs," she cautioned.

Tom didn't have to ask who she meant. "Yes, ma'am," he promised. "Will do."


End file.
